Santana's Worst Kept Secret
by Hannyski
Summary: Santana enlists Kurt and Blaine's help when she starts coming to terms with her sexuality. Brittana/Klaine.
1. Chapter 1

Santana Lopez stood outside the Lima Bean café, gazing through the window at Kurt Hummel, who was cosying up to his long term boyfriend Blaine Anderson, drinking a coffee. An extreme jealousy overcame Santana – not because she had feelings for any one of them, but because the words of Quinn in a tiny hotel room in New York had suddenly flashed up in her head. _"She has it, Tina has it, even Zizes hooks up."_ Yet here stood Santana, in the middle of a summer heatwave in Ohio, alone again.

_I just want someone to love me._

Quinn's words again, resounding in her ears. Santana had someone to love, who loved her back, in the form of her best friend Brittany. Shouldn't it have been as easy as Quinn made it seem? All her reasons for not being together suddenly seemed frivolous as she stood outside the coffee shop in the early morning and watched Kurt and Blaine, so comfortable and open with themselves. Kurt's hand reached out to entwine with Blaine's, and a pang struck Santana's so-called hardened heart as she let a memory consume her.

* * *

><p>"Britt?" The 13 year old Santana breathed. Brittany looked over from where she lay on her bed, petting Lord Tubbington, to where Santana stood, running her hands across the trinkets on Brittany's dresser, her hand resting on a photo of the girls with their friends from Summer Camp the previous year.<p>

"Britt, have you ever kissed a girl before?"

"No. Have you?"  
>"No."<p>

There was a silence as Santana contemplated this response.

"Brittany, if I told you I wanted to kiss girls, would you still be my friend?"  
>"I'd still be your best friend." Brittany walked over to Santana and kissed her, just a brush of the lips, so fleeting that Santana thought she'd imagined it.<p>

"Promise you won't tell, Britt."  
>"I promise. I pinky promise."<p>

* * *

><p>Their "pinky promise" quickly became a regular trait of their friendship. To others, it was a reminder that the two girls were best friends, and soon Brittany saw it that way too. But to Santana, the pinky link was a constant reminder of what happened that day. Slowly, Santana's mind returned to the present as she twisted her own tanned little finger around the bracelet that lay on her wrist – a gift from Brittany "for our 1 year 6 months friendshippaversary". A sudden feeling of adrenaline spread through her and she burst into the Lima Bean, turning a fair few heads as she pulled a chair over to where Kurt and Blaine sat (having an intense discussion on the topic of TIME Magazine's Most Influential People).<p>

"Oh, hey Santana." Blaine paused, looking at Santana's determined expression. "What's… goin' on?"

**"I'm gay."**


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt blinked and sipped his coffee silently, intent eyes on Santana, assuming she'd continue. Santana folded her arms and pouted.

"You're…" Kurt managed to say before she interrupted again.

"Gay." Santana finished. Putting it into words – not a "Lebanese" t-shirt or a sports-euphamism had given her the sudden sense that she needed to clarify. She had always tried to avoid labels, "girlfriend" being the one word she feared the most.

* * *

><p>"So, do you want to be my girlfriend?" Puck had asked as Santana slid out of his bed and into her Cheerios uniform. His words made her fumble with the zip, her cool exterior suddenly threatened.<p>

"No." She said simply, finding the zip again and smoothing her top, mechanistically pulling her hair back into the mandatory Cheerios ponytail.

"You're hot. And we both know from previous experience that I'm hot, so why not? We could be the new power couple, Lopez. We could knock Finn and Quinn off the top of the heirachy."  
>"Much as knocking Quinn down a few pegs appeals to me, I'm not girlfriend material, and from what just went down in here, I don't think you're boyfriend material. Maybe a toy boy to an aging ex-Miss World soccer mom."<p>

"So, what happens now? You're not blowing off the Puckster?"

"I'll call you." Santana said, and walked out, head held high. As she closed the door of his house gently, she closed the door on her innocence. Knowing that from that day onward, her membership in the celibacy club was nothing but a façade.

* * *

><p>"SANTANA!" Blaine's voice cut across her flashback, and she forced herself to look at the couple.<br>"I need your help." She admitted, glancing at each of them in turn with a stony expression.

"Well, what can we do?" Kurt asked ,realising there was an unnecessary bite to his tone, the thought dawning upon him that Santana was just as scared as he had once been.

"I'm… I'm so… I'm so afraid." Santana allowed her never-back-down reputation to crumble in front of someone other than Brittany for the first time.

"They'll eat me alive! They can tell that I'm not like them. That's why I had to date Karofsky, I don't want them to treat me like…"

"To treat you like they treated Kurt." Blaine finished.

"Well, yeah! I mean it's different for Kurt! He got sent to a school filled with hot gay kids! That's not gonna happen to me!" The words exploded from Santana. She looked furtively around at the quiet coffee shop around her and then lowered her gaze, worried about attracting attention.

"So if you're not ready to come out, how are we supposed to help?"  
>"I'm in love with Brittany."<br>"We suspected. We've had several conversations about it, at length." Kurt smirked, then returned his expression to one of compassion.

"Look, Santana. We, especially I, know where you're coming from." Blaine sighed, shaking his head and scrunching his nose in an effort to find a conclusion. Kurt's eyes flashed over to Blaine, but then he focused back on the conversation. "… and the best thing to do is tell her. Just tell her how you feel."  
>"I <em>told<em> her I'm in love with her. I sang to her, we've had several conversations about it… but…"  
>"But what did she say back?"<p>

"She said she loves me. But she didn't say she was _in_ love with me. I mean, I love cigars. I'm sure Blaine loves his blazer, god knows he wears it enough. But he's not in love with his blazer. Because that'd be weird. And super awkward, especially when he needed to wash it."


	3. Chapter 3

Brittany Peirce was, as usual, in a state of confusion. She had been away at summer camp for the past three weeks, and in her place as Camp Counsellor to a new batch of Cheerios, she had made some new friends. She anticipated that she'd be seeing a lot more of them. Exam results would be coming in the next week, and if Brittany failed again, it was goodbye senior year. She didn't mind – being held back a year meant another year with the Glee club. But she knew Santana would be leaving for college. Quinn too. Even though she liked her red uniform, she had bigger dreams than being at the bottom of the pyramid until her mid-thirties (when her looks would start to fade, and Sue would kick her out). But she wouldn't admit those dreams aloud, even to herself.

Brittany began to pack her remaining belongings into the small square suitcase she had brought, checking her phone quickly.

7 new messages. Brittany rolled her eyes and packed the phone into her bag without opening the inevitably pleading messages from Artie. The pretence of a lack of signal had carried her throughout the past few weeks, but every minute brought her closer to the decision she had to make back at home.

Decisions, Brittany pondered absent-mindedly, had never been her strong point. She wasn't the smartest girl; a fact she had grown to accept over time. Santana had always been the smart one.

"I'm the brains, and you're the beauty." Santana had announced one morning as they got ready for their first day of high school. "That's why we work so well. We're like yin and yang."  
>"Santana, that's racist." Brittany whispered nervously.<p>

But it was true, at least that Santana possessed the brains. Brittany had never seen a girl more beautiful than her Latina best friend, but Santana was often self deprecating when it was just the two of them. Brittany didn't understand why Santana would excuse herself and exit to the bathroom after a big dinner or eating an ice cream, but she understood enough from hushed conversations in the changing room that it was a common practice among the calorie-fearing cheerleaders. Not an eating disorder, just a way to stay the weight that Sue encouraged.

Brittany struggled with the zip on her suitcase when Sue Sylvester entered.  
>"Oh, Brittany. Sweet, naïve Brittany." Sue's voice was cutting as she entered the small cabin which Brittany had made homely in the time she'd spend there.<p>

"Your paraplegic boyfriend seems to be under the impression that he can simply roll in on a Cheerios. Summer. Camp. This will not stand. We've detained the offender in a secure unit. Spies from the Glee Club, at my camp! I'm entrusting him to you."  
>"Paraplegic…?" Brittany asked, confused.<p>

"Artie's here." 

And just like that, Brittany's decision was made.


	4. Chapter 4

"She comes home from summer camp today and I need to make sure she ends up with me, and not Ronald MacCripple." Santana announced.

"Sounds like you need a makeover." Kurt smirked.

"Look, as much as I'm coming to terms with sassy gay bonding, I rock my look and I'm really not prepared for a montage to some kind of revamped Wicked number, in which you'll doubtlessly hold up various colours to my face with expressions of extremely deep thought." Santana snapped, twiddling her friendship bracelet defensively.

"A personality makeover, Santana. If you want to be Brittany's girlfriend, you need to stop acting like a –"

"Bitch? Well that's what I am. I don't understand, I set up the Bullywhips, I'm friends with your crew of multicultured misfits… Besides, I'm pretty sure half of the Glee club are in the closet. I went out with Sam Evans for two whole weeks and not once did he try and have a go on the twins. Just sayin'."

"See, that's just it! You do all these things but you're so _negative _about them. It's not cool!" Blaine cried.

"I'm just speaking my mind. Being myself."

"Yeah well… how did you put it? Yourself is kind of a heinous bitch." Kurt told her, a laugh playing in his eyes.

"I never said heinous. So what are we going to do about it?"

Santana's referral to the trio as "we" had the desired effect on Blaine. Blaine loved to help people, and when he saw someone in distress, he had the urge to step in. It was part of his personality. The reason why Kurt had fallen for him.

"I say, we – I mean you – make a grand, romantic gesture. One she can't refuse. How opposed are you to sky writing?" Blaine asked seriously.

"Brittany doesn't like stuff like that. What she really wants is to go on a date. I've done everything else she asked. She asked me to wear a shirt, I wore the shirt, she wanted a duet, I sang the du- That's it. Come To My Window!"

"Your window?"

"By Melissa Etheridge… the song…"

"What about it?"

"Brittany, she wanted to sing that, she mentioned it while we were…"

"Hold up, I can imagine. So, you know what to do. Sing it for her."

"But she's not here."

"So go there. That's a nice romantic gesture."

"Blaine, enough with this romance crap! I'm barely out of the closet and you're already making me feel nauseous. I want to throw up onto the rainbow of optimism you are expelling from your pores right now."

Kurt tilted his head and smiled. "Hold on, I've got an idea… what time did you say Brittany gets back?"


	5. Chapter 5

2 hours and a few well placed phonecalls later (apparently Blaine had friends in high places) and Santana was stood awkwardly in the middle of the arrivals lounge, Lima Airport. Brittany's flight was due at any minute, and she was beginning to have second thoughts about Kurt's master plan.

"A serenade!" He had cried in exaltation, clasping his hands together with scheming delight. Santana saw they were clasped once more, but this time firmly around Blaine's hand, their thumbs twiddling idly round each other as they watched from a nearby Tie Rack [a/n: I have no idea if this store exists in the US, sorry, I couldn't think of another place that wasn't a coffee shop].

"Serenade? I'm pretty sure that Britt thinks that's something you use to flavour meat." Santana had initially responded to Kurt's erratic scheme, brushing it off.

"She'll love it!" Kurt promised, bouncing in his seat. Santana started to fold her arms in protest, but Blaine caught her wrist. She flinched instinctively at his touch.

"It's the best idea we've got. Just take it from me… a GAP isn't the best place to locate a serenade…" Kurt and Blaine exchanged a glance.  
>"Oh, don't worry Blaine. I know just the place." Kurt smiled and pushed Blaine's phone across the table.<p>

Now Santana was stood alone, gripping a microphone with clammy hands. The arrival she had been anticipating flashed up on the screen as twenty Cheerios burst into the lounge, headed for the luggage carousel and looking like they had just won awards. The steady stream of younger girls was beginning to taper into a trickle as Santana searched each blonde's face closely.

Blue eyes and long legs, a dazed, happy expression. Santana brought the microphone to her lips, an indication to alow the music to swell over the tannoy. She tried to form words but had spotted… Artie. Right behind Brittany, who was gazing at him, clearly enthralled. Santana dropped the microphone. A loud thud resounded over the airport, followed by an unbearable static.

"Oh…" Kurt breathed , quickly assessing the situation and ducking behind a sunglasses rack, pulling Blaine closer and out of sight.  
>"Do you… should we do something?" Blaine asked hastily.<p>

"Wait." Kurt gripped Blaine's hand a little tighter as they watched the scene unfold.

"Hey, Britt." Santana said, no attempt to hide the malice in her tone. "Get anything nice in Florida?" She hissed, disregarding Artie.

"Santana. What are you doing here?"  
>"What is HE doing here? I thought you were taking this time away, away from ME, to figure things out! Not to go on a special half-off vacation with Wheels McGee!"<p>

"Santana…"  
>"No, Brittany. Look, just… forget I came here, call me tomorrow. Like we planned." Santana stammered before walking away.<p>

"Wait, Santana! It's not…" Brittany searched for the right words as her best friend's back grew more distant.

Kurt and Blaine were hot on the heels of Santana, who was kicking pigeons in the parking lot of the airport and muttering indistinguishable Spanish curse words.

Blaine simply sat on a bench nearby, Kurt following suit. They watched the raven-haired teenager for a few minutes.

"So what now? You give up on her?" Blaine broke the silence. Santana had evidently ran out of ways to insult Artie in a foreign language.

"No. I try again." Santana said, with resolve.


	6. Chapter 6

"She's mad at me." Brittany stated, sitting on the edge of the conveyor belt sadly as she waited for her luggage to arrive.

"She'll get over it." Artie reassured her. "Once she knows why I came to visit."

* * *

><p>"Why are you here?" Brittany had hostilely (an: that's not a word, is it?) asked him on the plane.

"I had to talk to you, and you weren't texting back. And I had some frequent flyer points to use up. So… here I am."  
>"Here you are. So… talk."<p>

"I know you said you wanted some time to think everything over but I want to sway the results. Look, Santana may be scary, and sometimes I swear she's in some sort of Wiccan cult but –"

"Stop. I don't like it when you're mean about her. It's not fair."

"Let me finish. Causing us to break up… it's my one regret from last year. But I'm here to say that I'm not gonna stand – well, sit – in the way. Not anymore."

"Do you not want me anymore?" Brittany asked bluntly.

"I will always want you. But you aren't mine, and never were. Look, someone once said, well, a lot of people have said, that if you love something, you should let it go, and if it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, then it never was. I set you free, and you didn't come back. But you always go back to her."

"What are you saying?"

"Be with her. I'm out."

* * *

><p>"What if she doesn't love me anymore?"<p>

"That's not possible, Brittany. People don't just stop loving eachother." Artie finished, sadly. "Hey, um, it's your suitcase!" He said quickly. Brittany lunged for it, and with her other hand tried to hold Artie's. He pulled away. "It's better this way." he concluded.

* * *

><p><em>Come to my window. <em>Santana thought to herself, lying flat on her bed. Why was that stupid song suddenly so significant? She picked up her laptop and went online, clicking on its Wikipedia entry (A/N: I am doing this for the first time as we speak…) and beginning to read.

"Melissa Etheridge was a lesbian?" Santana wondered aloud, wondering if Brittany had known that when she had requested they duetted to the 1994 track. She read the lyrics again.

_I don't care what they think,_

_I don't care what they say._

Santana closed the webpage. If they had performed this song as a duet in Glee Club, she would have cared what they thought. She would have cared what they said. It was junior year, and she was a Cheerio. Of course she would have cared. But now there was something she cared about more. Brittany's happiness was the most important thing. She knew she couldn't hide her sexuality forever, but maybe a song in an airport wasn't Kurt and Blaine's best idea to date.

* * *

><p>"I don't know how we can help her," Blaine had murmured into Kurt's hair, as they watched football together on the Hummel's couch that evening.<p>

"We can't, I guess we have to wait it out."

"I don't see why you took my phone away. I was just going to text her 'courage' a few times."

"O-ho-hoo, trust me, she has plenty of courage. By the bucketload. But courage doesn't seem to count for much in Lima Heights Adjacent. At least from what I've heard. I've never been…"

"Well in that case, I think it's time you and I took a little field trip."


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt and Blaine stood on Santana's doorstep (after obtaining the address from Finn back at the Hummel residence). Kurt inhaled and knocked on the door. Three sharp raps. They waited for a minute before the door swung open, revealing a tall, male, muscular version of Santana.

"Hello. I'm Kurt Hummel, and this is – well, erm, is Santana here?"

"Sure. _Santana_!" He called. "_Couple of guys here to see you." _He walked back into an adjoining room, clutching a bag of potato chips. Santana stormed downstairs, but stopped abruptly when she saw it was Kurt and Blaine.

"Oh, hey guys..."

"We're here to help with the plan B…" smiled Blaine. "Can we come in?"

"Yup," Santana said, surrender in her tone. They followed her back up the stairs to her darkened room, Kurt running a hand across the throw on her bed before sitting down gingerly.

"So, what is Plan B, Santana?" Blaine asked, wandering around the room. "And I love this decoration. It's so _you._"

"Please. All it needs is some golf clubs and it's all set, right?" Santana retorted.

"That's not what I meant. You're more than your sexuality, Santana. You're funny and bitchy and you're clearly a smart girl. With a plan. Which is…?" Blaine encouraged, opening and closing Santana's blinds with an amused expression.

"I'm going to come to her window. Literally. So really, I don't need you guys. A public serenade was a nice idea, but it's more of a Artie thing to do. And I can't compare. So I'm going to give her what he can't – a true serenade. Just like she asked, and not ruined by him. But since ya'll came all the way down to Lima Heights, why don't you stay for dinner?"

"Oh, are you sure?"

"Yeah. Brother's going clubbing. I make a mean casserole, and I know Brittany goes straight to bed after being away so I've got some time to kill." She quickly exited the room after a shy nod of agreement from Kurt.

"Santana the culinary goddess! Who knew?"

"Well, this is a day of surprises." Blaine smirked, scrunching his nose and flopping down on the bed next to Kurt.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Thank you for all the reviews, faves and alerts! I never expected this on a little story that I knock up in my free periods at college. Sorry I took so long to update and that this chapter is so short, but I hope you're enjoying it. I really appreciate your responses, and thank you for taking the time to read my little ramblings! :) xx


	8. Chapter 8

Santana bustled around the kitchen, her hair scraped back into a messy ponytail, a shadow of her trademark Cheerios look. The **ding** of the oven signalled that the casserole was ready and she hastily removed it and piled large helpings onto three plates, balancing them along her arm like a waitress in a cheesy diner and taking them through to where Kurt and Blaine sat primly in her dining room. For Lima Heights, Santana's house was pretty nice. She only really thought about things like that when she had new people over, because Brittany was so used to the house and others rarely visited.

"Here you go, Lamb a la Lopez," she declared, placing a plate in front of Blaine's nose. She served Kurt's place and removed a pristine white apron with an unfortunate brown stain dripping down the centre before sitting at her own place, the head of the table. The boys started eating gratefully, making noises of appreciation. As their knifes and forks began scraping on the near-emptied plates, Blaine started up an inappropriate conversation.

"So how many people know you're gay?"

"Britt. You guys. Puckerman."  
>"Woah, hold on, Puck knows?" Kurt interjected incredulously.<p>

"Well, yeah…" Santana started to recount the story.

* * *

><p>"I know you're pissed. Is it because I "dated" Mercedes and Rachel but I won't date you?" Puck had asked last summer as Santana was dressing in her bedroom, spraying a light mist of perfume over her collarbone. He was sprawled lazily on her bed, his clothes making a trail from the bedroom door to where he lay.<p>

"I really couldn't care less, Puckerman. It's just something to pass the time."

"To pass the time until what?"

"Something better happens. Someone better comes along." She said cuttingly. When he got like this, she wanted him to leave as soon as possible, and crushing his ego was normally the right move.

"Hey. Have you seen me? There is nobody better. Not in Lima," He flexed an arm instinctively.

"Is that what you told Quinn?"

An expression of pain flashed across Puck's face as he struggled to regain the upper hand.

"Look, we're both just passing the time." She repeated. "You can't have _her_, I can't have… what I want."

"Which is?"

"Right now, a distraction." She crawled onto the bed, clambering on top of Puck. "Which is what you can give me." They kissed. Hands intertwining in hair and sliding under clothes, Puck rolled Santana onto her back, her hair fanning out over her. He began to kiss her neck, and Santana let a moan escape her lips.

"Fuck, _Britt…"_

They both froze.

"Well, I guess now I know why you're passing the time." He breathed as realization dawned. Santana sat up.

"You can't tell anyone." Puck reached out to her, coaxing her back down and into his arms. This was new. Santana was about as into cuddling as a crocodile. Prided herself on being cold blooded. But she let her form mould into his platonically for the first time.

"She loves you too, y'know. So do I."

"No, you don't."

"Maybe not like I love her." Quinn. "But you and I, we've got chemistry. Isn't that what you said to Mercedes? We've got chemistry. And if you still need to pass the time…" Santana cut him off by kissing him furiously, her eyes shut tight as she let images of Brittany cloud reality.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the delay, won't happen again! On summer break now and will be updating most days, hope you're enjoying it and really loving the comments and the alerts, makes all this worthwhile. Thank you everyone :') x**


	9. Chapter 9

"So Puck, Brittany, and us. Come on, you've got this far, why not everyone else?"

"Kurt, I saw what Karofsky did to you. The last thing I want is some big, scary lesbian tryna mack on me in the locker room."

"But Santana, you're so much stronger than me. You'd be a power lesbian."

"What even is that?"

"Like, Lady Gaga. Born this way and such." Blaine said, raising his eyebrows gently. "Look, Kurt and I will wash up, then we better head off."

"Stick around a while longer? I don't want to be alone, and you two are better than nothing." Santana asked, but there was an affection in her eyes that the two had never seen before. "We can watch a movie. Have a sassy gay slumber party montage." She smirked, tilting her head to show that it was her attempt at friendship.

Five minutes later, Kurt and Blaine were merrily washing up as Santana attempted to break the lock on her parents liquor cabinet in the pantry. She sighed as her combination attempts failed. The voices of the boys carried into the room. They were singing an old song from Oliver.

"_Would you lace my shoe?_" Blaine's sung out, filling the house.  
>"<em>Anything!<em>" Kurt spoke, in mock-childlike wonder.  
>"<em>Paint your face bright blue?<em>"_  
><em>"_Anything!__"__  
>"<em>_Catch a kangaroo?__"__  
>"<em>_Anything!__"__  
>"<em>_Go to Timbuktu?__"__  
>"<em>_And back again!  
><em>_I'd risk ev'rything  
><em>_For one kiss - everything -  
><em>_Yes, I'd do anything__, anything, anything for you_!"

Their laughter rang through the room, and Santana's fingers fumbled, finally working the code and allowing the door to swing open. She grabbed a bottle of vodka and paused at the bottom of the stairs, ensuring their musical interlude was over before interrupting.

Half an hour and a few drinks later, they were sitting in a row on the sofa, watching Oliver with enthralled expressions. Santana had been possessed with the genius idea of putting the subtitles on on an old video she had of the musical, and they joyfully sang along to every number. Santana played the streetwise Nancy, Blaine the Artful Dodger, and the role of Oliver was gracefully played by Kurt.

They rewinded scenes, becoming pitch perfect and, with each glass of punch that Santana lovingly mixed, becoming more animated. A few glasses were broken. A few stains would be difficult to get out of the sofa. But Santana hadn't had this much fun since Brittany had left for cheer camp, and she was, for the first time, unaware of the space on the sofa where Brittany would be doubtlessly be pogoing, singing "Consider Yourself" at the top of her lungs, her arms flailing around haphazardly, long fingers brushing the lampshade.

"Empty." Santana announced sadly, picking up a bottle.

"Methinks the lady should fetcheth some more!" Blaine responded. His hair had sprung wildly out of control and he was trying to unbutton Kurt's cardigan with his left hand while taming a runaway curl with the right.

Santana left the VCR playing as she staggered to the kitchen. The carpet was frayed slightly, and she caught her foot. A thud and a searing pain, followed by an awareness of the stickiness of the floor and its proximity to her face.

"Santana…? Shit, Kurt!" Blaine Dapper Anderson was swearing somewhere nearby, his voice urgent, but Santana didn't want to get up. "She's bleeding, call an ambulance!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I have an amazing headcanon where Klaine do an Oliver! mashup with As Long As He Needs Me and I'd Do Anything. I will update soon, I've started writing the next chapter as I upload this one...**


	10. Chapter 10

Santana opened bleary eyes to meet Kurt's worried baby blues, his eyebrows knitted in concern.

"Well. Least I know I'm not in heaven, cos God hates fags." She managed to mumble before her eyes grew heavy again.  
>"That's our Santana." Kurt's voice sounded distant and full of pride, though it wavered on the last note. Santana felt as though the ground was moving beneath her. Audible alarms wailing and flashes of primary colours, though her eyes were squinted to the point of blurred vision.<p>

"God, turn that fucking racket off." She tried to say, but it came out as a dribble. She realised with a start that she was actually dribbling. She didn't think she had ever dribbled. Suddenly she became aware of things that she had forgotten to do.

Was the oven off?

Did she close the door to the pantry?

The pantry. A few hazy memories were coming back to her. She was having a bizarre dream in which she had befriended the village gays and shared her famous casserole with them. All she had to do now was wait to wake up.

White. Lots of white. Kurt, again, with the concerned eyebrows. Her brother, looking slightly pissed off.  
>"For fuck's sake, Santana. You know you can't handle your alcohol." A hesitant beeping grew more incessant, almost in time with Santana's growing anger. How dare he wake her from her sassy gay dream with insults? An unfamiliar voice spoke.<p>

"Go easy on her. She's lucky she didn't do more damage to herself. Miss Lopez is a very lucky girl indeed."

"Where's Britt?" Santana choked out.

"I don't know,"  
>"Call her." She demanded of her brother, struggling to sit up and rounding on Kurt.<p>

"What happened, Hummel? Last thing I know we were enemies. Then we're singing showtunes into proverbial hairbrushes at a sleepover. What next?"

"We were never enemies, Santana. I was kind of in awe of you."  
>"Why are you being nice again? I'm a bitch."<br>"You're scared."  
>"Fuck off."<br>"I can see for myself." He indicated the beeping. Santana realised she was hooked up to a heart-rate monitor.

"How bad was it?"  
>"You hit your head pretty hard. Then they had to pump your stomach. It was pretty gross. I for one will never be drinking again, and I suggest you follow my example. You've been out cold for a few hours…"<p>

"Where's Britt."  
>"She doesn't know that anything's happened. We tried call-"<p>

"Her phone will be off. She likes to sleep after a flight."

"Do you want me to get Blaine to go over there?"

"No. She won't understand. It'll upset her and I don't want her upset. Not now."

"Santana, you have to start looking after yourself. Sleeping around, drinking too much – it was fine before, but if you really love her, you'll stop this. Stop this, and be with her." Blaine implored from the doorway, his curls pushed back from his face.

"Can you leave?" Santana asked both of them, turning her back and holding in the tears until she heard the door quietly close. She erupted then, dry sobbing into the starchy pillow, wishing to be anywhere but there.

"I'm worried about her," Santana's brother Jack said, his head pressed against the window, watching the shoulders of his sister shudder with fresh tears, their slender outline visible through the thin hospital gown. "You two her friends?" He looked at the couple, his eyes tracing down to their clasped hands. His eyebrows furrowed, and Kurt dropped Blaine's hand as if it was aflame.

"I know that she plays on my team." He suddenly became defensive. "You think I don't see the way she looks at Brittany? I can't believe that girl isn't answering her phone. She's so _stupid_."

"We'll go to her. We'll bring her here." Blaine felt the need to defend Brittany. Most people did.

"Did Santana tell you to do that?"

"Well, actually, she said the opposite." Kurt looked at Blaine, his expression solemn. "And we'll do what she wants. We owe her that much."

"Look, just go home, kid. You can't do much else. Thanks,"

"Jack?" Kurt said in a small voice, as Blaine turned to leave.

"What?"

"You're a really good brother. I wish I had someone like you to look up to."

"I kind of have to make up for my parents sometimes. They're absent. And not as… forward." Kurt tilted his head in confusion at this choice of words. "Well, let's just say there's more than one reason Santana likes to pretend she likes boys."

* * *

><p>"So what do we do now?" Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand again as they left the dingy Lima hospital. He clung to it like a child clung to a security blanket. "Do we get Brittany?"<br>"Let's just go home. Watch Oliver?" There was something simple in that idea, and Kurt agreed instantly. The idea of going "home" never sounded so right, as they hailed a cab.

* * *

><p>Simultaneously, Santana was thinking about when she'd get to go home. After hissing at a passing by nurse, her discharge papers were being prepared. <em>No time to waste,<em> she told herself. _You could have died. And she would never have known how much you love her._ A nurse wheeled in a chair.

"Oh, no, that won't be necessary."

"Ma'am, it's hospital policy. You either leave in this chair, or you don't leave at all." Santana glumly allowed herself to be guided into the chair and wheeled down the halls by Jack, blushing furiously. There was such a loss of power in that chair. She felt herself subconsciously sympathising with Artie. She would be getting up and walking any second now, but Artie? He was confined. Trapped. She made a mental note to become a better person. To become worthy of Brittany. It'd be hard. But Kurt, Blaine and the past 24 hours had put it into perspective for her.


	11. Chapter 11

Jack unlocked the door to their home, ushering Santana inside. "I'm _fine, _stop pushing me around." Santana hissed, dumping her jacket on the stairs and storming into the kitchen. The sight before her made her stop abruptly.

Contraception. Diet pills. Cigars. Empty, and near-empty bottles. Lighters. Letters. Receipts. Even the hastily sewn Rachel-Berry-Voodoo-Doll. Stacked on the table. But most unnerving of all these factors attacking Santana's senses were the two behind the table, standing as though they were the guards to a particularly unpleasant museum.

Santana's addictions were staring her in the face. "Hey, papi…" she tried. There was apause, then the screaming began, a mixture of Spanish and English abuse hurling through the air.

"You're out of control. You're going away from all this." Santana's dad finalised, waving a hand over the incriminating pile. "It's gone too far! Look at yourself. Who_ are _you? What happened to the girl who was vice president of the celibacy club and co-captain of the Cheerios?"

"She grew up. I'm _not_ leaving her… here. Not leaving here." She corrected.

"The rest of the summer. You're going to stay with your Aunt Mildred in Martha's Vineyard."

"She's fucking ancient! Just like everyone else on that microcosm."  
>"I'm sure she's got some stories to tell. Pack. You fly tomorrow."<p>

Too exhausted to fight this ruling, Santana snatched her phone from the table and stormed into her bedroom, head throbbing.

No new messages.

"Screw being a good person for her." Santana said to no-one in particular. She started to pack angrily.

Santana's parents dropped her at the airport with a kiss and a promise to pick her up from the same place in three weeks time. Once again, she found herself alone and apprehensive in the airport. A sudden urge overcame her and with zombie-like precision she withdrew some savings, threw her plane ticket into the bin and approached the Departures desk.

"One one-way ticket to New York."

About three hours into the flight, she started to doubt herself. This self doubt began to crawl over her flesh and she struggled to escape into memories. She thought of the last time she'd made this flight.

* * *

><p>"Santana, can we watch Spirited Away?" Brittany pleaded, scrolling through the film choices on the touch-screen that faced her seat.<p>

"Britt, we've seen that movie plenty of times. Pick something else." Santana said absently, looking around the plane. Mr. Schue's wife had done them right by their tickets. They had the entire first-class section to themselves, screaming babies and angry foreigners barely audible through the thick red curtains sectioning the Glee club away from the outside world. Rachel and Kurt were writing into little notebooks, occasionally exchanging knowing smiles.

Finn was gazing at Rachel, and Quinn was gazing at Finn. Puck and Zizes were attempting to swindle the flight attendant out of some complimentary champagne. Mercedes and Tina were quietly watching their screens. Mike was sleeping, his leg twitching as if he was practicing dance routines in his dreams, and Artie seemed to be playing on an ancient Gameboy, his tounge lolling in concentration. Santana was astounded at how comfortable she had become among this bunch of misfits.

"Fine, we'll watch the movie." Santana refocused her attention on Brittany, who was doing puppy eyes. Within ten minutes of the film starting, she felt the blonde's head slipping onto hers. She instantly hooked her pinkie into Brittany, feeling the girl relax as Santana's head came to rest on top of her own, and she soon snored gently. Santana didn't know how long they were like that, but it was tranquil. As if they were the last two left on earth. And though it was morbid, she couldn't help but think if the plane were to crash, she wouldn't mind half as much if she could stay like this forever.

* * *

><p>This memory sustained Santana throughout the sweaty uncomfortable business-class flight and soon she was gathering her luggage and leaving the airport. For the first time, it dawned on her she had nowhere to go. Shrugging, she decided to start at the beginning and head to the hotel that the New Directions stayed at for Nationals.<p>

Wheeling her luggage behind her, she sat down at the bar in the hotel and ordered a Martini. A cold look made the vendor think twice about asking for ID and the drink was hastily brought to her. She was admiring the clear liquid, the bubbles that formed around the Olive, when a deep, seductive, and hauntingly familiar voice sounded behind her, warm breath on her neck.

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world." Spinning around on the barstool, Santana met the eyes of Jesse St. James.


	12. Chapter 12

"Well, if it isn't Jesse St. Second-best." Santana remarked as he slid onto the stool next to her.

"Well. If it isn't Santana second place," He came back instantly. "Oh no, yo9u guys didn't place at all. My mistake. Buy you a drink?"  
>Santana indicated her full glass as Jesse motioned to the bartender, who was far more welcoming toward him than she'd been to Santana mere minutes ago.<p>

"Your usual, J?"

"On the rocks." He returned his attentions to the glowering brunette. "So what brings Miss Lopez to the Big Apple?"

"Boredom." Santana said, twirling the stem of her glass and admiring the prisms of light it cast over her fingers. "Yourself?"

"Rachel didn't tell you? I scored the lead rrrrrrrrole in the Rrrrrrrrrrhodes Not Taken: The April Rrrrrrrrrhodes Story." He smirked, deliberately rolling his "r"s.

"How'd you land that?"

"Mr Schuester hooked me up. He's kind of a nice guy. I feel bad about crushing him last year at Regionals."

"Look, Jesse. While I think it's wonderful that the fates chose to bring us together again, I'd really like to wrap this up because I need to find a place to sleep tonight. Preferably not on the stoop outside."

"I know just the place," Jesse said with a mischievous smile. With no better option presenting itself, Santana drained her glass and stood up.

"Well then?"

* * *

><p>It was due to this turn of events that Santana found herself standing at the back of a sold-out theatre. Jesse was charismatic in his lead role and April was vocally flawless (though there was a tell-tale ankle wobble to Santana's trained cheerleader eye which implied Jesse wasn't the only one who enjoyed a pre-show beverage).<p>

Though her arms were folded, she couldn't help smiling and applauding as the show ended to a standing ovation. After an encore, Jesse found her in the fast-dissolving crowd and lead her backstage.

"Santana Lopez! Well I never! I just saw a porno with a girl in and she reminded me of ou!" April instantly enveloped her in a hug, though Santana couldn't recall ever holding a conversation with the alcoholic actress.

"Santana's fallen on hard times," Jessie said bluntly.

"Pregnant, are you? That big jock knock you up? Oh , sweetie. Mama April will look after you. Just need Jesse to keep looking after me…"

"That's super inappropriate." Santana retorted.

"Oh no, what April and I have is a strictly professional relationship." Jesse corrected.

"He's frigid," April stage-whispered conspiratorially. "That high strung Mini-Streisand screwed him over…"

"Enough! Now Santana, you can sleep on my floor if you really want to. It's not much but I owe Mr. Schue a favour so..." Jesse offered.

"Well I don't have any other option."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"And sweetie, we'll find you a job in the theatre. How would you like to be a stagehand?"

* * *

><p>And that's how Santana found herself in her first showbiz job. Though she'd never admit it, she enjoyed running water and flowers to the actors and watching the show from the wings. The workings of the Broadway world fascinated her and she suddenly understood Rachel and Kurt's fascination with it. By the end of the first week, she had fallen into a routine and was secretly resenting the fact she had to go home. She'd been in touch with her Aunt Mildred, who had shockingly promised to cover for her. It seemed everything was falling into place.<p>

Except one thing.

She'd called Brittany several times, but all the phone did was ring, and ring, and ring. She longed to hear Brittany's voicemail message "It's Brittany, bitch. How do I turn it off… San…?" And then the beep. But there was no message. Just an incessant beeping. Kurt had called once but she'd just left it to ring. None of the Glee kids seemed to have noticed that she'd left, but she wasn't thinking about that too much – she just focused on the job in hand. The only time she thought about life back in Lima was as she struggled to sleep. Brittany was constantly in her dreams. She'd be running across the field they'd gone to on a road trip last summer. Or riding a horse at the stables she'd insisted they visit for her birthday, blonde hair drifting over bare, tawny shoulders. First she'd be laughing, encouraging Santana to join her, but Santana found herself glued in place. Then Brittany became angry and started walking away. Santana tried to call after her but her mouth was full of glitter. And then she'd wake up, gagging.

* * *

><p>The weeks travelled by in a blur, and soon it was time to leave. She'd slept with Jesse once during the near-month of time they'd spent together. It was messy and unpracticed and happened while Jesse was teaching her a dance routine from the show. They lay next to eachother after it was over.<p>

"So… yep."

"Yeah. That was… yeah."

"You still love Rachel, don't you?"

"Don't be stupid, I don't love anyone. I'm just passing the time." Santana winced as Jesse used the words she had so often said to Puck to assure him.

"Jesse, I know how sex works. And you were totally thinking about her the whole time."

"So who were you thinking about? That massive jock that you were with at prom?"

"Um... Puck?" Santana replied quickly, ignoring the flash of blonde hair and bright white teeth that danced across her mind.

"So I guess we're in the same boat."

"Guess so." Santana climbed out of his bed, pulled one of his shirts on and clambered onto the couch wearily. They didn't talk about it again, and as Santana tried to sleep she heard Blaine's final warning echoing in her head; "**Santana, you have to start looking after yourself. Sleeping around, drinking too much – it was fine before, but if you really love her, you'll stop this. Stop this, and be with her**."

* * *

><p>Santana was honestly sad to leave the city as she got into the taxi and asked the driver to take her to the airport. The radio was playing an old Tracy Chapman song, and she asked him to turn it up. Gazing at the flashing lights passing her, she smiled sadly.<p>

_And I, I had a feeling that I belonged__  
><em>

_And I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone_

_You got a fast car_

_But is it fast enough so you can fly away__  
><em>

_You gotta make a decision__  
><em>

_You leave tonight or live and die this way._

* * *

><p><em>Well, I know what song I'm singing in Glee Club this week. <em>She thought to herself and smirked. She couldn't wait to see the look on Rachel Berry's face when she told her how she'd spent the summer.


	13. Chapter 13

Santana stood outside the choir room anxiously, waiting for the wall clock to turn 3.30 and begging it to slow its pace. Their first day back at William McKinley, and she hadn't seen Brittany yet. Though she tried to act aloof, she found herself searching each classroom, every hallway, the lunchroom. She peeked inside the choir room once more. 12 heads were visible, facing away from the window she peered through. That was normal, it meant that they were just waiting for her. She hoped.

She didn't know if they even wanted to see her. Would they kick her out? God knows they'd wanted to do that to Rachel enough times for sins less shocking than disappearing without a word (wearing a pants suit, for example). She scanned the room for Brittany's familiar frame and recounted when she didn't see the head of blonde curls. Definitely twelve…

Oh. Blaine was there, standing next to Kurt.

_Blaine was there? _Santana's hand acted of its own accord and she drifted in to get a closer look. Apparently, physics were acting against her as the door creaked, turning all heads.

"Santana!" Rachel said. "I'm so glad you're here! Have you seen Brittany? Because I have a great idea for our first number, and you're gonna need to get those wings from Run Joey Run out again because – " Santana glared at her and she was instantly silent, stepping backwards.

"Shut it, hobbit. Speaking of hobbits," Santana rounded on Blaine and Kurt. "What the hell are you doing here? Spying already?" She looked closer at him. "What happened to your eye?" Blaine's eye was swollen and shades of purple were fading over his cheekbone. Kurt stepped in front of him, clasping his hands and bobbing slightly.

"I would just like to say to you all that Blaine is not a spy, he is the newest transfer to McKinley!" Kurt's foot twitched slightly, as if he wanted to do a jig but was containing himself.

"Well, this is a day of surprises." Santana muttered and pulled up a chair next to Puck and Zizes, blanking them in the process. Mr Schuester entered at that moment, disrupting her train of thought.

"Hey guys!" He announced cheerfully, waving at them all. "Hope you all had a great summer, I thought we could take the first part of this Glee meeting to talk about our summers, get to know one another again"

"No lesson plan then?" Finn guessed, his arm draped over Rachel, who was bursting to tell about her own summer.

"I spent the summer writing my memoir – _The Berry. _Patent pending," She announced, waiting for future inquiries which didn't arrive.

"Mike and I spent the summer tutoring at Asian Camp again," Tina snuggled further into his arms. The group all explained what they'd been doing for the past few months until Mr. Schue's eyes landed on Santana.

"What'd you get up to?" He asked her, surprised that the extroverted Latina hadn't joined in the conversation herself. "Did you get that shirt at Nationals?" Santana was wearing a tight "I (heart) NY" shirt and a green miniskirt. She pulled the shirt down uncomfortably, mentally kicking herself for wearing it. "No, I actually spent my summer there. With our choir consultant." A few heads snapped up.

"Wait, you and Jesse?" Rachel was the first to ask.

"Yeah. It was strictly platonic, of course. But I had a wonderful time backstage at April's show. Seeing how it all worked. And the nightlife wasn't half bad, either." She gave Rachel a knowing look. "Interpret that how you will, night troll." Some glee club members smirked at the insult, but Rachel was already on her feet.  
>"You're lying. You're trying to usurp me and Finn as the leaders of the group by appealing to my jealous nature. But Finn and I are too in love to let the reminder of our exes stop us from being together. Right, Finn?" Finn was staring gormlessly at a spot on the wall.<br>"Oh yeah. Forever and stuff." He smiled dopily, wrapping an arm around Rachel.

"Well, if the pleasantries are out of the way," Mr Schuester interjected. "I'd like us to give a warm welcome to the newest member of Glee Club, Blaine War… uh... what is your last name?"

"Anderson," Blaine chuckled, good-naturedly burying his head in his hand in mock-shame.

"Blaine Anderson!" Blaine stood and waved, and Santana made a mental note to get the full story on the transfer and the black eye as soon as possible.

"So, I'd like to get started on work for Sectionals… wait, where's Brittany? Santana, have you seen her?"  
>"No." Santana answered quickly, shuffling in her chair awkwardly as the collective questioning gazes of Puck, Blaine and Kurt landed on her. This whole uncomfortable-in-her-own-skin feeling was completely new to her and she shifted until she felt more dominant, sitting up straight. Then Brittany came in and she was almost knocked off her chair.<p>

"Sorry I'm late Mr. Schue. I had to rescue a baby goldfish from drowning," A typical Brittany comment that required no further pursuit. Brittany took the seat next to Santana out of habit and they exchanged quick, _where-have-you-been_ glances that would be imperceptible to anyone other than the pair. Mr Schuester turned on his heel and went to the whiteboard.

"TIME," he wrote in large capitals and underlined it twice. "Time," He said, simply. "It's – "

"A magazine." Brittany nodded.

"Not quite… This could be our last year together, guys. Graduation isn't that far away. So your assignment for this week is to find a song that you feel reflects your past, your present or your future."

"Anything?" Mercedes asked.

"Anything. At all. I've got no moral to this one, guys. You know that time flies, it seems like just yesterday that you were 5 kids singing Don't Stop Believing to an empty theatre. Now look at you guys, fresh from a sold out New York _National Competition! _This is gonna be our year,"

"Sweet. I've got this one down!" Mercedes smirked, but Rachel was frowning with concentration.

"Mr Schue, your lesson plans continue to be both vague and incredibly prying into personal matters. However, I have the perfect song under my belt for this moment. Do you mind if I begin?" She got to her feet, and he indicated the choir floor was open, pulling up a stool.

"Friends, acquaintances, this is how a true soloist begins." She glared at Blaine, obviously threatened by more competition for the leads and began to sing, eyes darting around the room.

_Skies are crying, I am watching__  
><em>

_Catching teardrops in my hands__  
><em>

_Only silence, as it's ending, like we never had a chance.__  
><em>

_Do you have to make me feel like there's nothing left of me?_

_You can take everything I have_

_You can break everything I am__  
><em>

_Like I'm made of glass__  
><em>

_Like I'm made of paper__  
><em>

_Go on and try to tear me down__  
><em>

_I will be rising from the ground__  
><em>

_Like a skyscraper, like a skyscraper__  
><em>

Santana took the moment of distraction to lean across and whisper to Brittany. "Brittany! What the hell happened to your phone? I tried calling you!"  
>"I saw a sad little mouse and it said on the internet that phones interfere with wireless mouse reception. So I gave the phone to the mouse in case it had any weddings to plan," she breathed back.<p>

"What the...? Are you an idiot?" Santana snapped and instantly wanted to take it back. Brittany shifted noticeably away from her as Rachel continued to sing.

_Go run run run I'm gonna stay right here__  
><em>

_Watch you disappear yeah__  
><em>

_Go run run run yeah it's a long way down__  
><em>

_But I'm closer to the clouds up here._

Brittany gazed at her best friend from the corner of her eye contemplatively. Santana was just thinking to herself that every song had something to do with her past, present and future as Rachel finished _Skyscraper _and took a gentle curtsey to the group's applause.

"Well, that's how we do it in McKinley!" Mr Schuester got to his feet. "But I'm not quite sure how it fit with the assignment…"

"As a performer, I face adversity from my peers. People have tried to tear me down but I am rising from the ground like a proverbial skyscraper," She curtsied once more and shot a final threatening glance in Blaine's direction.  
>"I think we can wrap it up for today guys, I know you've probably got a lot of homework to catch up on, but don't forget to think about the assignment" The young teacher exited the room at this, and people began to follow suit. Santana caught Brittany's wrist.<p>

"Hey," she said softly. "I didn't mean it. I just forgot how to act around you,"

"It's okay. Did you have a nice time with Martha?"

"What...?"

"When you weren't around, I went to your house and your parents said you were at Martha's house, in her vineyard. I didn't think you liked Martha after she ate all the jelly at your birthday party, but I figured that you would come home for school so,"

"Britt! I have been worried _sick_ about you! What have you been doing all this time?"

"Just, summer stuff. Tanning." She held her wrist against Santana's. Their skintones were very similar now, though Brittany's arms were freckled from years of neglecting to put on sunscreen.

* * *

><p>"Britt, you'll get skin cancer if you don't protect yourself."<p>

"But I'm a Taurus." The two girls lay on Brittany's trampoline in shorts and bikinis, panting and laughing. it was a hot summer day three years ago, and they had just been practicing a new routine for the Cheerios. They linked pinkies and Brittany admired the way their hands complimented eachother.

"When we're older, we should have a pink and brown bathroom," Brittany smiled.

"You mean, live together?" Santana asked casually, as if the thought had never crossed her mind. Truthfully, it crossed her mind constantly, as they slept at eachother's houses constantly as is and were living out of eachothers wardrobes as if they owned them.

"Yeah. Somewhere nice. Busy. With a park nearby." The blonde said decidedly, snuggling her face into Santana's neck and enjoying the scent of her perfume, with undertones of freshly cut grass from the garden.

"Okay, I'll make sure it happens."

"Yay!" Brittany pulled Santana to her feet and they repeated the routine, pinkies still intertwined.

* * *

><p>"So, do you want to come over tonight? We could catch up," Brittany offered her pinky. Santana felt unbridled panic rising in her throat.<p>

"Uh. I… I can't tonight. Homework, y'know. Hey. Klaine! Wait up!" She turned tail and ran away, leaving Brittany blinking in the choir room.

"_Go run run run, I'm gonna stay right here, watch you disappear." _She repeated the lyrics from Rachel's song under her breath.

"You okay, Brittany?" Artie wheeled up next to her, having witnessed the entire scene but out of earshot.

"Why wouldn't I be."

"Because Santana just blew you off?" He offered, realising too late that it was the wrong thing to say. "I mean…"

"Yeah. That could be a reason." She left the choir room feeling more confused than ever.

What had happened to her best friend in that vineyard?

How come she was suddenly so pally-pally with Kurt and Blaine?

Where had this sudden interest in completing homework sprung from?

And most importantly, why had she run away?


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey look, it's Dorothy," Kurt muttered to Blaine as Santana approached them at pace.

"What did you just call me?" She hissed, already putting up her guard. _Here comes the rage about going MIA._

"Swept away into a beautiful Technicolor world? A proverbial friend of Oz,"

"… did you just insult me in some weird gay code?"

"I'm referencing Judy Garland. God, you're as bad as Sam. If you want out of the closet, go on Wikipedia once in a while!" Kurt rolled his eyes, evidently undeterred by the time they'd spent apart over the summer. Blaine leaned closer to Santana.

"So, how's Plan B going?" That raised Santana's pride and she jutted her chin out indignantly.

"You tell me." She pouted.

"You guys haven't got it together yet?" Kurt said in shock. "We figure since we hadn't heard from either of you that you'd run away or something."

"Speaking of running away, what are you doing here, Blaine? Has McKinley high become a throbbing gay metropolis over the course of my absence?"

"It's kind of a long story," Blaine sighed, not meeting Santana's eyes and shuffling noticeably closer to Kurt, their knuckles grazing.

"You heard mine." Santana said, settling the matter. "So. Coffee?"

"Come to my house," Kurt quickly decided, as Blaine shot a strange look in his direction.

Santana sat in Kurt's bedroom, admiring the muted decoration and waiting for the couple to bring the promised coffee up. She thought with a snicker that she was probably the second hottest girl ever to enter this room (remembering Kurt's "relationship" with Brittany and wincing). A photo of the Glee Club at Nationals had been blown up and pasted haphazardly above Kurt's mirror – the only thing that wasn't perfectly aligned and attuned to the theme of the room. A photo of Kurt and Blaine taken at Rachel's party sat in pride of place in a silver frame and Satana reclined on the bed to get acloser look. She heard the slow thud of footsteps and sat vertically, suddenly hostile. Finn burst in and stopped abruptly.

"Hey, Kurt, have you seen my – Santana? Am I in the wrong house?" Santana stretched out on the bed in a feline manner, tight shirt riding up to exposed her tanned, toned flesh.

"Oh, Finn! I couldn't stay away! The thought of you with another girl was enough to drive me wild," she simpered, in a Texan accent.

"Woah. Erm, that's sad and all, but I'm dating Rachel."

"Chillax, Finnocence. I don't go to the same restaurant twice if the chef is incompetent. I'm here for Kurt's company."  
>"I don't know what that means but… um,"<p>

"We're doing a song. For Glee Club. Top secret. So run along, and while you're at it, tell Rachel she looks like a swamp urchin." _Hm. Relentless lies, a brushoff AND a shot at Rachel. Sue would be so proud._

Santana moved as Kurt and Blaine entered, suddenly feeling very awkward about sprawling on his bed.

"Oh, hey Finn. Did you want a coffee too? Warm milk perhaps?" Kurt offered, motioning to leave again.

"No, dude, what is it with you and that stuff? It's like being a baby except… big,"

"It's good. Blaine agrees," Kurt snapped defensively.

"If we're done with this charming sibling banter, would anyone care to catch me up on Blaine's facial deformity?" Santana interrupted.

"His eyebrows aren't really that noticeable, Santana." Finn joked. Blaine's hand flew to his face, but there was a laughter in his eyes.

"The black eye, Finn. You're free to leave at any point, by the way." Kurt said gently, but there was an edge to his voice.

"Sorry dude," Finn collected the CD he had been looking for and scarpered.

"Blaine," Santana asked again.

"I… er… there's some, stuff going on at home." Blaine tugged at his polo shirt. "My dad got demoted, he can't pay my tuition to Dalton and he's not that pleased about my choice of significant other."

"He doesn't like Kurt?"

"He doesn't like my boyfriend."

"So… Kurt."

"Not Kurt per se,"

"But that doesn't explain… did he hit you?" Santana felt rage building in her throat, and it wasn't about her for once. She didn't care if that happened to her, she could give as good as she got, but there was something about hurting this beacon of courage to Kurt and hell, to her, that didn't stand. "Tell me. Now." Her eyes burned with angry tears.

"I brought Kurt home for the first time and – "

"How about we show him how we do it in Lima Heights?" Santana exploded, getting up of the bed. Kurt and Blaine pushed her back down gently and Blaine continued to talk, though his voice wavered and broke.

"I brought him home and it was okay, just my mom was in, because my dad travels a lot with work, and mom was doing her best but my dad got home eventually. And the timing was really bad. He'd just been told about his job, and he came in, and he saw us all sitting there and…" Blaine stopped and looked at Kurt. Kurt took up where he left off seamlessly, his voice stronger. The two of them seemed to work as one.

"He just quietly told me to leave the room, but I stood my ground. Probably not the greatest first impression, but the atmosphere in that room was acidic. Then he threw the first punch,"

"At Blaine?"

"At my mom." Blaine stated simply. "So I went to stop him and, well," he indicated his face.

"Fuck your dad. What an asshole. So what happens now?"

"I go home when my dad's travelling, stay with my mom, but when he comes back…"

"Hold up, she's still _with_ the asshole?" Blaine shrugged, as if the thought of divorce had never occurred to him.

"She loves him. What is she supposed to do? When he comes back, Burt lets me stay here. I sleep on the couch and try and earn my keep, do chores, make breakfast..."

"He's the perfect guest. Apart from that one time when he threw up all over the guest bathroom." Kurt nodded at the drunken photo on his bedside, trying to lighten the mood with a reference to a memory they had shared (other than Blaine, who couldn't remember a thing). "So, did you say something about a _song_ to Finn?"

"Oh, it was the first thing that popped into my mind."

"It's not a bad idea, you know." The three exchanged smiles, but Santana was hesitant.

"Guys, remember the last time I tried to come out through song? I think the employees of Lima Airport are _still _experiencing second-hand-embarassment." She groaned at the memory, but Kurt was already on his feet in excitement.

"Nonsense. Let's make an amazing Plan C. I have whiteboards. And colour swatches!"

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the wait (again) been a bit hectic recently! Thank you for sticking with it :) Reviews would be nice? No pressure... haha, much love! <strong>


	15. Chapter 15

Meanwhile, it was a typical night at the Pierce household. Brittany was lying alone in her room, petting Lord Tubbington and singing softly to him. Though her bedroom door was shut, the sound of her parent's voices crept under the door, snaking into her inco-operative ears.

"There is something seriously wrong with our kid! She's been so listless recently!"

"What would you know? When was the last time you sat and had a conversation with the girl?"

"It's those Cereals! I knew they'd be trouble. Our daughter, the cheerleader. They've made her believe that you have to act dumb to get boys to like you."

"Cheerios! You never listen to either of us, do you? It'll look great on her college transcripts, it's not about boys! I'm tired of this, David."

"What sort of college is going to take in a… a vegetable?"

"She's special. And they'll see it. She's said she'll really focus this year,"

"Well she's going to have to try hard and convince them not to send her back to the start of Junior Year!" Brittany winced at the tone in her father's voice, steely and hard.

"You're talking bull – "

Brittany covered Lord Tubbington's ears instinctively, wishing there was someone to cover hers. Her singing wasn't distracting her anymore so she raised her voice louder. Her parents thought she was stupid. That was obvious. Too stupid to comprehend the guidance meetings and the talks behind closed doors and the hesitant, nervous glances from her teachers.

The thought of repeating the year left her with a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. Her best friend was slipping away and if they weren't able to share their lunch periods, to chat during study hall and sneak off from boring substitute lessons, how were they going to stay close-knit? Brittany knew Santana would be leaving, but the taste of a few weeks apart was enough to drive her insane. She replayed that fleeting moment in the airport, thinking of the different ways it could have gone, wondering if any factor could have changed the outcome.

Stupid. No, she wasn't stupid. She understood the things that mattered, and repeated them like a prayer.

1. Santana was her best friend.

2. Santana loved her.

3. As long as she knew those things, anything was possible.

But the first point was wavering, and she knew that if she lost her best friend, she wouldn't understand anything. She groaned, pushing her cat onto the floor gently before rolling and smothering her head into her pillow.

* * *

><p>"Oh my GOD Kurt, just pick a song already!" Santana had groaned, tossing the pillow she held over her head in Kurt's direction. Blaine saved a teetering coffee cup from tipping onto the laptop which the two boys were gazing at, making occasional comments and then retracting them after a rebuttal from the other. It was like watching some bizarre half-conversation, and reminded Santana so much of herself and Brittany that she found herself staring anywhere but at the pair.<p>

"I think we should definitely pick something musical theatre," Kurt had initially suggested.

"Because nothing says gay like musical theatre?" Santana guessed, raising an eyebrow.

"Because nothing says _love_ like musical theatre." Blaine tilted his head and looked at Kurt as he said this.

"Excuse me while I barf. Do you have anything from _this_ century, Hummel?"

"Er… I'll check," Kurt hid behind his laptop nervously. Several coffees later, and they were still struggling with a song choice that fit all three of them vocally, was good for the assignment and helped them with the infamous plan.

"How about something from RENT?"

"No, god no. Can't we just forget it?"

"Don't mess with the plan, Santana. I didn't cut up those swatches for nothing!"

Santana sighed and rolled around on the bed in exasperation. For once, she didn't have to act flirty or slutty, and was responding to this new feeling by acting like a five year old. Blaine looked over from the laptop and shuffled across on the small couch, gesturing for Santana to join them in their hunt.

"Actually, it's getting kind of late. I should go," Santana wasn't sure about her parent's leniency towards her social life now she was back at home, but she figured that she'd need to get back soon.

"Stay for dinner. Blaine's making cannelloni. And I think we owe you a meal."

"Fine. On one condition," Santana said seriously, causing Kurt to look up. "No vodka." She cracked a lazy smile, and once more Kurt felt at ease in her presence. The Bully Whips, Glee club, or even Cheerios – Santana had always been witty, but with a sharp edge. But now he was seeing the side that, prior to the summer, only Brittany was a witness to - a funny, bubbly girl, with insecurities. Human. Blaine had noticed too, and had the courage to comment.

"Santana?" He asked cautiously, leaning toward her. "Why don't you act like this all the time?"

"It's a sign of weakness." She shrugged, as if that settled it, but the words hung in the air, begging for further explanation. "Most people... they don't want to hear about the bad times. They just want to know that someone, anyone, is getting it a whole lot worse than they are. So, I make sure that everyone knows that no-one is getting it as good as I am. Even if it's not true." The idea seemed stupid now – a Sue Sylvester mentality driven from years of striving and planning and scheming to be the best.

"You're not weak, Santana. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. I mean, look at how you handled Karofsky. If I could have done that then…" Kurt reassured her.

"Maybe it's better that you didn't... in the end." Blaine gripped Kurt's hand and they exchanged a subdued look of affection that was so intimate Santana looked away.

"Let's just put my iTunes on Shuffle and see what we get." Kurt quickly changed the topic, turning up the volume on his laptop and placing it as if it was a bomb on the ground before pressing play. The sound of an old Cyndi Lauper ballad filled the room, and the trio exchanged glances, smiles spreading across faces as they shared the same thought.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry it's shorter than the other chapters, I'll get the next one up soon. Hit 10,000 hits yesterday, that was lovely! Thank you everyone :) Reviews are always appreciated ;) xXx**


	16. Chapter 16

"Are you guys sure that this is a good idea?" Santana asked nervously as she stood in the large disabled bathroom, inspecting her outfit for their Glee performance and gazing at the two boys who were preening next to her.

"Of course. Who doesn't love 80's music?" Blaine had asked. "It may not be a powerhouse rock hit, but it's perfect for this situation, and me and Kurt are good to sing back-up… just this once." Blaine winked at his reflection, directing it at Santana, who fluffed her hair and threw a last glance at her own reflection before spinning around.

"Okay, you ready to go?" She asked them, and after a quick survey of the corridors they left the bathroom, sauntering down the hallway at pace.

Suddenly, a wave of wet, frozen, blue liquid engulfed the trio.

"What the hell?" Santana hissed, wiping the slushie out of her eyes and looking around for the offender furiously.

"Oh my god." Kurt whimpered, dropping Blaine's hand to sluice a large clump from his cheek.

"Azimio?" Santana glared at the tall jock holding two empty cups.

"That's for cheating on my boy Karofsky, with a couple of fags!" He shouted, loud enough to just mask the final bell's ring. "I mean, I know you're such a whore that you'd fool around with anyone, but _THOSE _guys? Those two don't even play on the same team as you! What did you do, sit and watch?"

The standoff was fodder for a curious crowd so Santana made a decision fast to prevent exposure to the jeers of others, seeing a poker-faced Karofsky standing in the background and putting two and two together. The truce and their façade of a relationship was over.

"Listen, Azimio. I don't know what you think you saw but if you want to live another day at this school, or on this planet, you better back the fuck up and stop acting like an asshole because I know for a fact you've had a lot more action in the _hand_ department than you have with the ladies recently. And if I ever, _ever_ catch you calling my friends fags again, then I will see to it that you have both of your hands removed. And fed to hungry wolves. Not necessarily in that order. Got that?" Santana stormed back into the bathroom, Kurt and Blaine at her heels.

"Holy… that was cold," Blaine managed to choke out, referring either to the slushie facial or Santana's threats.

"Oh baby, your first slushie!" Kurt gasped. "It gets less cold over time. The blue ones taste pretty nice actually," Kurt reached out a delicate finger to wipe the blue liquid from Blaine's face, avoiding the bruise that was fading slowly, before licking his finger. "Not sure what flavour it's supposed to be, it just tastes... blue."

"What are we going to do now?" Santana gestured to the spreading blue stains that covered their attire.

"I guess we do our best. They'll understand. Hey, Blaine. You've officially been induced into the New Directions now!"

"Wow. Can I get a transfer back to Dalton yet?" Blaine muttered. They rinsed their faces and dabbed the stains as best they could before walking proudly to the choir room, heads held high.

"Woah, guys, what happened?" Mr Schuester asked them as they entered.

"Oh nothing, just a little run in with some bullies. Guess the summer didn't give the football team the growing up time they so richly require…" Santana declared, giving a small smile to Brittany, who had worry written all over her face. "We've been working on a song for the assignment, though." She added.

"Well that's great guys, but Brittany and Mike have prepared something and they already asked to go first, so if you want to wait a while and enjoy their performance…" Mr Schue said diplomatically, knowing that the three wouldn't object.

"Hey. This performance is dedicated to my girlfriend, Tina, on our one-year anniversary," Mike said.

"So, hit it!" Brittany jumped out of her chair and burst into song as the band kicked in.

_Boys call you sexy  
>And you don't care what they say<br>See every time you turn around they're screaming your name_

Brittany was dancing expertly as she sang, going into a weird jive routine with Mike that fit with the song bizarrely. Santana shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the Glee club began to clap along. Seeing Brittany dancing again made her heart hurt, but in an amazing, arousing way.

_Now I've got a confession  
>When I was young I wanted attention<br>And I promised myself that I'd do anything  
>Anything at all for them to notice me<em>

_But I ain't complaining  
>We all wanna be famous<br>So go ahead and say what you wanna say  
>You don't know what it's like to be nameless<br>Want them to know what your name is  
>'Cause see when I was younger I would say<br>_

Mike started to sing the chorus, and the group were taken aback by the way his vocals had improved over the summer.

_When I grow up, I wanna be famous  
>I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies<br>When I grow up, I wanna see the world  
>Drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies<br>When I grow up, be on TV  
>People know me, be on magazines<br>When I grow up, fresh and clean  
>Number one boy when I step out on the scene<br>_

Brittany started to sing again as Mike went into a breakdance, the club cheering as Santana sat speechless.

_Be careful what you wish for 'cause you just might get it  
>You just might get it, you just might get it<br>Be careful what you wish for 'cause you just might get it  
>You just might get it, you just might get it<br>_

Brittany's eyes were trained on Santana as she sung the rest of the song and danced expertly, never breaking eye contact, her voice oozing sensuality as she told Santana that _she just might get it_. The rest of the Glee club jumped up and joined in with the more simple steps of the routine, but Santana sat rooted to her chair. White knuckled, she watched the performance.

_I see you watching me, watching me and I know you want it…_

The song drew to a close and they all cheered.

"Woah," said Mr Schuester. "That's a tough act to follow. Santana? Kurt? Blaine? Take us home."

Santana trudged to the middle of the choir room with the speed of a man walking to the gallows as the rest of the group returned to their seats. Kurt and Blaine stood behind her and she was reminded of her Glee club audition, singing back-up for Quinn in perfect formation. Quinn was looking at her encouragingly now, and that was filling her with the will to continue.

"Santana, Blaine and I have prepared something more… emotional, that focuses on the _past_ aspect of the assignment, rather than the future." Kurt told the group, before nodding to Brad and indicating he should start playing. Santana took a deep breath and fixed her gaze firmly onto her best friend as she started to sing.

_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,__  
><em>_and think of you__  
><em>_caught up in circles, confusion__  
><em>_is nothing new__  
><em>_Flashback, warm nights,__  
><em>_almost left behind__  
><em>_suitcases of memories,__  
><em>_time after – _

Kurt started to sing, his hand gripping Santana's shoulder as he broke formation and walked over to Finn.

_S__ometimes you picture me,__  
><em>_I'm walking too far ahead__  
><em>_you're calling to me, I can't hear__  
><em>_what you've said,__  
><em>_Then you say, go slow,__  
><em>_I fall behind__  
><em>_the second hand unwinds…_

Blaine joined in, and they belted the chorus together, their voices merging in a way that had the entire club blinking in awe.

_If you're lost you can look, and you will find me__  
><em>_time after time__  
><em>_if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting__  
><em>_time after time__._

Santana started to sing the final verse alone, the band stopping so it was her voice, simply her voice, that filled the room. Her eyes welled up with tears and she saw Brittany's were doing the same. She knew Brittany loved it when she sung acapella, but this felt so different to when they sung in her room in the morning or together at Glee Club. Singing about her real feelings to the girl she loved in front of her friends was different to singing with the girl she loved, or singing alone to her.

_After my picture fades and darkness has__  
><em>_turned to gray__  
>W<em>_atching through windows, you're wondering__  
><em>_if I'm OK__  
>S<em>_ecrets stolen from deep inside__  
><em>_the drum beats out of time…_

The drummer started playing again, off-beat, and she sent him a muted smile as the entire glee club sang the final chorus. Mr Schuester smiled at them after it was over.

"I think we've found a possible song for Sectionals! Keep finding great songs for the assignment guys, though it'd be tough to beat today's contenders!" He patted Santana on the back and she was too elated to throw a cutting remark in his direction. This really was a year of firsts. She plucked up the courage to take the empty seat next to Brittany and allowed her hand to dangle between the chairs, hopefully. She felt the comfort of another slipping into her own, and turning, found Brittany's tearfilled eyes looking at her with pure adoration.

And that was enough to make a slushie in the face and a summer apart and a trip to the emergency room and a lot of coffee with an unbearably loved up couple worth it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I've had some really good ideas for the next chapter so it'll be up this weekend for definite :D I know the fandom have been dying to get Blaine slushied in Season 3 so of course I wrote that in...**


	17. Chapter 17

"I really liked it when you sang and stuff," Brittany told Santana as they left the choir room, hands still intertwined. As they passed Kurt and Blaine, they received encouraging, knowing nods. "What do they want?" She asked Santana nervously.

"Oh nothing, they're just glad you liked our song. And I liked yours. You're a fantastic dancer, Britt. I wish I was as good as you."

"Everyone does." Brittany said, giggling and swinging their hands as they walked down the corridor.

"Glad to have you back, Britt." Santana pulled her in for a hug.

"You smell like… blue," Brittany observed.

"Yeah, a slushy in the face from Azimio does that to a person." Santana murmured into Brittany's shoulder.

"What? Azimio slushied you? Why?"

"I guess me and Karofsky are kaput…" Santana said sadly. "No more beard." She added, pulling away from Brittany.

"So what does that mean for us?"

"Brittany, I want to be with you. I want to hold hands with you and call you my girlfriend."

"But you do that anyway,"

"I want everyone to know." _Is this it? Are we finally getting together? Shit. Shitshitshit. Santana, stop thinking ahead for once and kiss her. Kiss the girl._ "But… not yet." She cursed the words as they came out of her mouth, wanting to retract them.

"Then why… why are we having this conversation again?"

"I thought I was ready!"

"You're never ready! I'm yours! I said it last year, I'll say it again. I am yours, Santana. But I won't be forever."

Brittany dropped Santana's hand as if it was a hot curling iron (which she regularly used in the bathtub) and started to leave.

"Brittany! Wait!" Santana had to sprint to catch up with the angry blonde. "Brittany!"

"I gave up Artie to be with _you_. Why are you suddenly blowing me off to hang out with Kurt? What are you so scared of? You're always scared!"

"I'm never scared."

* * *

><p>"Were you scared?" Brittany had asked Santana as they lay on her bed.<p>

"I'm never scared." She retorted, rolling over to face away from her best friend.

"Did it… hurt?" Brittany's curiousity overcame her. Santana had just informed her that she had lost her virginity the day before, and after a quick flail of excitement, Brittany became worried that Santana was maturing too fast and leaving her behind.

"Like a bitch. Puckerman's so… strong." Santana summarised. She still couldn't quite comprehend what she'd just done, and it felt so good, imagining Quinn's reaction if she was to find out, seeing Brittany's reaction now. Knowledge was power, and she had never felt more power over Brittany.

"Oh," Brittany managed to spit out, feeling jealous but not understanding why. She pegged it down to the fact that they always did things together and now, now there was something that Santana could hold over her.

"Yeah. Well, Noah wants to take me to Breadstix tonight. So I better go." Santana left hastily without saying goodbye, and Brittany reached for her phone to text Matt, from the football team. "_Noah this, Puckerman that," _She commented to Lord Tubbington. "_We can all tell stories,_"

And so the new Brittany was born. Santana never understood how or when the transformation took place. It was overnight. Brittany went from a wholesome, slightly slow girl, to the school make-out queen. But nobody chided her on it, because she had this adorable charm about her that made everything she did acceptable – naïve Brittany being led astray, naïve Brittany didn't know any better.

Santana didn't buy any of it, but at least talking about their conquests meant they were never stuck for conversation. She realised that Brittany prided herself on her _number._ The sheer magnitude meant more than the actual act involved. In fact, Brittany had once said that counting boys taught her how to use double digits.

But when Brittany started making out with girls… and more… Santana felt like she had to step in - to protect naive, sweet Brittany, of course.

"Why did you make out with her? She's a massive dyke," Santana watched Brittany carefully, toeing the line to see her reaction to the word.

"What does that mean?" _Oh. That wasn't the right reaction._

"It's a… a girl who kisses other girls."

"Like us?"

"No. Well, not me. I suppose you're… bicurious."

"Kissing girls is fun. You taught me that." Brittany stared at her pinky, and Santana mentally kicked herself. _She remembers what it means. She still thinks about it. It meant something._

"So, who are you dating now?" Brittany changed the subject.

"Still Puck... I guess. Who's next on your list?" Santana joked.

"Mike Chang's kind of cute. And he's a great dancer," Brittany alluded to the fact that they had just joined glee club. Santana was unimpressed.

"Ew, really?"

"Why not?"

"He's not good enough for you." She pointed out.

"And who is?"

"Prince William? Edward Cullen? Not a high-school Lima loser with nothing going for him except a few dance moves. Not like us. When we're older and we have our own house, we'll bring home _way_ hotter boys. Trust me."

"What about... dykes?"

"No, Britt. Just you and me, we're the best girls."

* * *

><p>"You're always scared. Admit it, you're terrified." Brittany hissed, gripping Santana's wrists.<p>

"Brittany! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"Nothing is wrong with me! Nothing is wrong with us! You're just not brave enough to face it, so you run away. And you're going to do it again, and again. Admit it." And with that, Brittany left. Santana stood in the hallway alone, refusing to cry.

"PLAN B IS A NO GO. I GIVE UP" She texted Kurt. She put her bag in her locker, changed into her gym clothes and broke into a run through the abandoned corridors, running straight into Emma Pillsbury.

"Oh! Santana!"

There was something terribly grating to Santana about the way Emma talked, as if constantly in surprise. But as the guidance counseller gripped her shoulders to get a closer look at her wavering expression, she suddenly broke down.

"Miss... Miss Pillsbury... I think... I need guidance. And possibly counselling."

"Anything you need. It's kind of my job," And with that, Santana found herself being gently hustled into an office she'd never seen before.

Santana Lopez didn't take help from anyone. Santana Lopez was never scared.

She opened her mouth and let out a sob.

"I'm so scared!"


	18. Chapter 18

Santana eyed Miss Pillsbury across her desk as a vulture eyes their prey. She wondered inwardly how it was possible to _sit_ primly, but something in Emma's manner and way of dress made every move she made … proper. Santana used to say in jest that Quinn would grow up into an Emma clone – a virgin Queen who managed to get every hot guy. Funny how things work out – how Santana was now facing the Queen's sentence.

"So, uh, Santana? What can I…help you with today? School trouble? Is Sue picking on you? Trouble with David?"

Santana was slightly taken aback by the amount that the redhaired guidance counseller knew about her, but pegged it down to Mr. Schue being unable to discuss his own problems in an intimate relationship.

"I'm not dating Dave anymore. Well if a slushy in the face from a football player counts as a breakup."

"Oh, so you're dealing with bullying? Well I'm sure I have a pamphlet for that." Emma's hands expertly glided over her leaflet display, stopping only to realign some pamphlets on mouth reduction surgery (they had been anonymously requested last year) before pulling out a pink pamphlet with two girls on the cover.

"What… what is this?" Santana spluttered, griping it between thumb and forefinger as though it was contaminated (highly unlikely, since it had been in Emma's office).

"A pamphlet." Emma replied, as though it was obvious, but her hands nervously adjusted the hemline of her skirt, displaying an underlying discomfort in where the conversation would lead.

"Yeah, on _homophobic _bullying? Why do you even have these? There's been a total of two out gay kids in the past 20 years in this school! I just got _dumped._ I don't need… this!" She passed it back, but Emma held it out, insistent. Her eyes displayed Bambi-like confusion and determinism.

"Really? Because you want to know what I think?"  
>"No. Not anymore."<p>

"Well too bad. Because I think you _will_ need that, Santana."

"Hold up. You. You know?"

"I'm a guidance counseller. When that school newspaper column came out about you spending time in the closet, and Brittany made that comment on her webshow,"

"Why does everyone watch that stupid cheese show?" Santana interrupted incredulously.

"Look, Santana. You're obviously confused, and that's okay. Just, educate yourself." She pushed the leaflet across the table once more, gentler this time. The way she was insisting she educated herself reminded her of what Kurt had told her, so she reluctantly grabbed the pamphlet and stuffed it into her pocket.

"Thanks." The confused girl stuttered, stumbling on her way out of the door. _Does everyone know? It's supposed to be a secret. Is it that obvious?_ "Crap." she said, gazing at a clock and realising she was going to be late home again. She reassumed her run out in to the parking lot where a few cars remained. One caught her eye. "Oh, _CRAP._" She muttered, breaking into a sprint as it pulled up alongside her.

"Get in!" demanded the voice. "I need to talk to you," Softer.

"Screw you, Karofsky! I thought we had a deal!" Santana shouted into his window, not breaking pace.

"Not so loudly. Now get in, I want to explain,"

"Hell. No. What is _wrong_ with you? How could you let Azimio chuck that at me? At _Kurt?_ I thought you were toally gay for him?" Santana spat venomously, speeding up, her lungs crying out at the exertion.

"Would you stop? _Please,_" Something in that last word made Santana stop abruptly, the force threatening to knock her off her cheerleading poise.

* * *

><p>"<em>Please,<em>" Karofsky had said to Santana, near the start of the summer. She was sat rigidly on a chair opposite his bed, arms folded, face hostile. "_Please._ You don't even have to pretend you're nice or anything! Just do this one thing for me. I am _begging_ you."

"Ugh. Fine," Santana still didn't understand how Karofsky had managed to persuade her but somehow she ended up being carted around his sister's wedding like a passive-aggressive Barbie doll, meeting his family, being his "girlfriend" and talking about their future.

It made her feel sick to her stomach, to lie to all these people. But Karofsky had managed to persuade her to do it.

"You owe me," Santana had muttered solemnly when he dropped her home.

"I know…" He had replied, and Santana patted his hand, which resembled a bears paw as it gripped the steering wheel.

"You're not as bad as they think, you know. Not anymore," she told him, and then she slipped out of the same car she was climbing into now.

* * *

><p>"So, I guess we broke up?" Santana asked quietly. She had never really been dumped before, (and there must be a whole new set of rules for fake breakups) and still didn't know the right way to react.<p>

"Santana. I think that we should do it,"

"Ew. That's disgusting. And you're gay." Santana said incredulously, misinterpreting.

"Not _that_! God. I think we should… come out." Dave proposed, eyes firmly on the road, not daring to flick to Santana's face to check her reaction.

"Oh yeah. So why did you let your douchebag friend slushy us? How does that fit into this master plan?"

"I was going to… I was going to do it. But then I saw Kurt's… I saw him."

"His name is Blaine. And you better get used to hearing it, because they are in love. They are never breaking up." The same words that she had said to Puck on many an occasion about Quinn and Finn. "So what happened?" She continued.

"I just… I said that you and I weren't together anymore. And then he saw you guys coming out of the bathroom and twigged that you were all buddy-buddy with the Chippendales."

"Chippendales? Seriously. You are the most lame gay _ever._ Brush up on your references, because those two are as far from Chippendales as you can get. And stop ragging on them! How is that going to help?"

"I can't help it. I just… I don't know. How can they be so okay with it?"

"I… I don't know." Santana muttered. She pulled the crumpled pamphlet out of her pocket as Karofsky pulled up outside her house and looked at it.

"Well that's twice as many open gay kids than there were last year. And with the Bullywhips, and PFFLAG…" The boy reasoned.

"Do you think we'll have _any_ juice at this school if we come out on Team Gay?" Santana asked, a thought that had played on her mind constantly. She still thirsted to be popular.

"I think you will." Dave said simply.

"Well, you're wrong." Santana made a move to leave the car.

"I know who you're in love with!" Karofsky exploded suddenly, and Santana's eyes snapped back to him.

"You're breaking the rules," Santana had set three rules when they had started "dating".

_Never try and work out who she was doing all this for._

_Never tell anyone._

_No showtunes (a particularly unpleasant run-in with Rachel Berry and an ill-timed radio show had caused this rule to become enforced)._

"I don't care! It's Brittany. Everyone's gonna know, Santana. And that's FINE because you know what? She's immune. Nobody ever chucked a slushy at Brittany. You can _have _her. So go do it. Do what I can't! Now get out of my car."

Santana left the pamphlet on the seat of his car, and walking up her driveway, considered his words. It was true – Brittany was safe, an unrelenting rock. People said it would be wrong to pick on her because she wouldn't understand, but it was more than that. She lived her life being liked by everyone, because she never did wrong, and if she did, she didn't know it. Santana mentally kicked herself for manipulating the girl into cheating on Artie.

* * *

><p>"Look, I don't know <em>why<em> you've decided to start dating him again. There are plenty of hot guys at school. Puck, Finn, hell, Mike Chang!" Santana had shouted at her best friend as they walked home late one night from Glee rehearsals.

"But I really like him." Brittany defended herself.

"He _blew_ you off! And now you want to get _back_ with him? Why?"

"He's… he's really different to those other guys, I wish you'd just give him a chance! Come to Breadstix with us again..."

"No! He's not good enough for you!" Santana snapped. "Conversation over."

"Who is, then? Because it seems like whoever I choose, you've got something against them! Even if you suggest them!"

"Me!" Santana screamed, causing several birds to fly from a nearby tree. Brittany blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"I think that we should carry on like before,"

"But isn't that cheating?"

"No, don't be silly. How would that be cheating? We aren't having sex. Like, the plumbing's different." The excuse seemed so simple as she pulled Brittany into a kiss and then deepening it, linked their pinkies and dragged her back to her bedroom.

* * *

><p>"So guys, I hope you enjoyed this week's lesson. I've found a great number that we can practice, fits the assignment, and it'll be <em>great <em>at Sectionals this year!" Mr Schuester announced to the club. Santana hardly knew where the rest of the week had gone, because she had been drifting through her lessons in a haze of guilt and half-laid plans.

"What is it, Mr Schue?" Rachel asked eagerly, on the edge of her seat ,preparing to jump up and take the solo.

"Seasons of Love, from Rent." He told her as she jumped up eagerly. Kurt muttered a sarcastic "that's an original idea…" to Blaine.

"I have been practicing the solos for this since I was three." She announced to the group.

"Actually Rachel, I thought that Santana would take the lead on this one. Her performance this week reminded me that we _all _need to have our moment in the sun." Santana smiled, pleasantly surprised, and as they sung on the auditorium stage, she knew every line would be striking Brittany as hard as it struck her as she sung the solo verse, because they spent so much time together, their lives were intertwined.

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand__  
><em>_Six hundred minutes!__  
><em>_Five hundred twenty-five thousand__  
><em>_Journeys to plan._

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand__  
><em>_Six hundred minutes__  
><em>_How do you measure the life__  
><em>_Of a woman or a man?_

Finn cleared his throat and came up to the front of the stage next to her in order to sing the male lead. Rachel watched from the back, doing some simple choreography with a stony expression on her face.

_In truths that she learned,__  
><em>_Or in times that he cried.__  
><em>_In bridges he burned,__  
><em>_Or the way that she died._

The group sang the final verse together, and at the end they all clapped and cheered, laughing and hugging. Santana grabbed Brittany's arm. "I have to talk to you," she whispered softly into Brittany's ear, before she was dragged away into a hug from Mercedes.


	19. Chapter 19

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Brittany eventually asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the two best friends as they sat on the steps in the abandoned gymnasium later that day.

"About… us." Santana began. "I'm sorry about yesterday. You were right, as always. I was scared. But I'm not afraid anymore, Brittany. I want to be with you and I'm ready now. Whatever happens is worth it if you're mine." She shuffled closer to Brittany on the step, feeling the warmth radiating from her freckled skin as their arms brushed lightly.

"Are you sure?" Brittany asked, looking up at her from under her eyelashes.

"I've never been more sure of anything. I promise you," Santana leaned in and kissed Brittany, feeling a smile spread over her face as she felt her girlfriend – _her girlfriend _ respond to her kisses with a gentle moan as they sunk into eachother, finally.

"Well it's about time," a soft voice jarred them back to reality. Quinn was standing there, arms folded, as the two girls reluctantly broke apart.

_Of course she knows. Everybody knows. Or they will know, now._ Santana thought to herself as she bravely got up.

"Got a problem with that, Fabray?" She said defensively, pulling Brittany to her feet beside her and slotting their fingers together.

"You think I didn't know? We were best friends once,"

"We still are," Brittany assured Quinn, approaching her hesitantly and tugging Santana along behind.

"I was just wondering if you guys wanted to come to Breadstix with the rest of Glee Club. First week's out of the way, we wanted to discuss song choices for sectionals. Rachel's idea of course,"

"Actually, I think we're gonna pass." Santana smiled at Quinn, feeling a flood of affection for the girl who'd been through so much, far more than Santana had to deal with.

"Why aren't we going to Breadstix?" Brittany asked, following after Santana as they brushed by Quinn, who watched them go with a sad smile.

"I thought we'd get dinner together. Catch up, like you wanted to yesterday. I've got so much to tell you, Britt!" Santana gabbled, suddenly excited. "But not at Breadstix. We should go some place fancy, have a… a date."

Brittany and Santana had been on dates before, but they usually featured two guys who they proceeded to ignore. And they usually took place in Breadstix, due to Santana's fascination with their legal loopholes.

"Our first date." Santana clarified to Brittany. She didn't want her – or herself, for that matter – to think that this was just another dinner.

They went to an Italian restaurant where they sat opposite eachother at a seat by the window, watching the employees of downtown Ohio shuffling home in the twilight as they waited for their food to come.

"So, what did you get up to over the summer?" Santana asked idly, drinking her diet soda and fixing her eyes on her date. Brittany was gazing absentmindedly at a cloud shaped like a house.

"That's so weird. You not knowing what I've been up to." The blonde observed, returning to the situation.

"Well, we've been apart a while."

"Too long." Brittany sighed sadly.

"Well, it won't happen again. Promise." Santana's hand snaked across the table to stroke Brittany's fingers gently, a thrill shooting up her arm. Being able to openly touch the girl she loved was the best sensation.

"Well, after Cheer Camp, I just hung out with the Glee guys. Me and Mike Chang learnt some really cool dance moves, like the ones in the dance we did. And Artie's tutoring me in Math. Last week, he marked my paper. I got a D." Brittany told her proudly, as Santana winced at the mention of Artie.

"Oh, how is the wheeled wonder?" She tried to ask without emotion, her hand subconsciously returning to her side of the table and scrunching up a napkin.

"He's… did I do something wrong?" Brittany's lower lip jutted out in confusion.

"No. I just… let's talk about something else. Did you get highlights?"

"Oh, yeah!" Brittany tossed her hair and smiled, the previous topic forgotten. "I just ate a whole lot of white food and my hair got lighter. It was really cool. Have you ever considered going blonde?"

"Nah, I'll leave that to you and Quinn." Santana replied.

"Do you think Quinn will tell anyone what she saw?"

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm proud. Let her tell them, we can post a picture in the school newspaper for all I care."

"Can we? That one from last summer. That'd be a nice one to put in the newspaper."

"Britt,"

"I'm kidding, San. But can we film a Fondue for Two? I've got a few things I want to say to you. And I want everyone else to hear them," Santana agreed, and their conversation was broken by the arrival of the food. After they were finished eating, the cheque arrived, and both their hands twitched for their purses, before they looked at eachother and laughed.

"You want to split it?" Brittany offered.

"No! No, it's on me. Gotta treat my girlfriend once in a while," Santana said, loudly, putting down three twenties and getting to her feet, doing a suave curtsy in front of Brittany's chair.

"San…" Brittany laughed nervously, shocked at this change in character. "What are you doing?"

"I'm courting my lady," Santana smiled, slipping her hand into Brittany's and leaving the restaurant in a flash of dark hair and giggling. Brittany was surprised to see the private Santana who loved playing around and having a laugh at nobody's expense was making a public appearance.

"Where are we going?" Brittany managed to say between her uncontrollable fits of laughter at Santana alternativing John-Cleese-style silly walks, their slender arms linked as the night fell over Ohio.

"I'm walking you home, like a good date would." Santana told her, and they wandered home in the dusk, enjoying each others company. The walk was over too soon, and as they stood on Brittany's stoop, they stared at each other for a solid minute, drinking in eachother in the moonlight.

"Did you… want to come in?" Brittany breathed, suddenly shy.

"I don't think I will. Not tonight. I just want to think a while,"

"Not changing your mind?"

"Of course not. It's just… you and me. It's not going to be just sex, anymore. It has to mean something."

"With feelings, it's better." Brittany reminded her weakly. Santana leaned in and kissed her once more, and as she pulled away she maintained eye-contact.

"I know it will be," She whispered, winking and biting her lip as she walked away quickly, throwing a glance back as she walked down the road. Brittany was watching her go, leaning on the door frame, a smile playing on her lips.

The next day the two girls walked into Cheerios auditions heads held high and pinkies linked. Sue suddenly loomed over the pair, her whistle dangling around her neck in preparation for the gruelling task of weeding out the talent through the tryouts.

"Snoozy! Grumpy! My office, now!" She shouted across the room. The two realised that they were the Disney characters in question and rushed to comply with the cheer coach's demands.

"Sit down, ladies," The girls sat down nervously, exchanging glances.

"I'd like to apologise for my treatment of you two last year, and welcome you back onto the Cheerios." The girls blinked in shock at her revelation. "Now, I understand that the school newspaper I re-established caused some problems for your Glee club. You two especially."

Santana shrugged off the memories of the articles which attempted to out her true sexuality. She was out now, and it had been a day, and nothing had changed. That was fine.

"But no more. After your club helped me _once again,_ I've found that there is no pleasure in destroying it, or you. Maybe still William, but that's a personal vendetta. So, I've decided to focus on my campaign for senate. Meaning that I need a new head cheerleader. One to run the club with Becky, while I'm on the campaign trail."

"And?" Santana didn't trust where this was going. Her natural instinct was to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'd like you to do it," Sue said.

"So you're going to make us compete?"

"Not exactly. I think that… being head of the Cheerios at a time like this would be… beneficial. To both of you. And myself. might even write an article on it."

"So you know? About..." Santana gestured between the two of them.

"You're my cheerleading squad. I know everything that goes on, and I definitely knew that you had more taste than to date that meathead bully Karofsky." Santana's jaw dropped and she looked at a smirking Brittany, shell-shocked. Santana's secret had yet another conspirator. "Now go on, get out of here. It's exhausting to look at teens in love. Makes me want to stare at adverts for starving African children."

Acceptance. That's what Santana felt. And through the next week, nothing changed. She and Brittany went everywhere together as usual. Nobody gave them a second glance. It was as if nobody cared. Glee Club rehearsals were more fun then ever – Sectionals seemed an age away, and after two consecutive wins at that level, they were feeling positive. Everything seemed right.

And then, it was wrong.

The day had started fine. But as they were leaving Glee Club practice, Azimio rounded on the pair, two blue slushies in his large hands. Brittany smiled kindly at him, thinking that he had brought them as a gift for the pair – after all, as a head cheerleader she was getting a lot of attention from the student body. But her smile soon turned to an expression of confusion as he tipped both over her head.

"Stealing a football player's girl – that's not cool. And not making out in public makes it even _less_ cool. And since you're not putting out for anyone on the football team anymore, you can have a little taste of what the rest of your weirdo friends go through," He hissed at Brittany, before walking off to cheers from the rest of the football team.

"I… I don't understand," Brittany said, wiping the slush off her face. "Why did he do that?"

Santana thought that the day could only improve from that point.

"Hey, ladies!" A voice called. Santana and Brittany were walking back to Santana's house, hand in hand. They had chosen to cut down an alleyway, knowing it would shave minutes off their journey. Santana quickened her pace, but the voice was coming from in front. A group of men came round the corner, staggering slightly. One of the many negative things about Lima Heights was the fact that the bars and streets were crawling with unemployed louts.  
>"Keep behind me," Santana whispered to Brittany, dropping her hand and stepping slightly in front of the tall blonde.<p>

"How about a little show, ey?" The man called, the others whistling.

"Little cheer for us? Our team just won a game!" Another crowed, this was followed by cheers.

"Uh, not today." Santana suddenly felt uncomfortable in her uniform, though it was the highest quality. She made to turn away.

"Leaving so soon, little cheerio?" The third man asked, obviously a McKinley graduate. Santana didn't answer, instead she linked arms with Brittany and walked away.

"Hey, hey, hey. Wait up," A sweaty hand gripped her arm, pulling her back. She lashed out, scratching down the man's face with perfectly manicured nails. The man laughed and grabbed her arm again. "Not so fast," he smirked, slapping her square across the face. Brittany whimpered somewhere far off, and that was enough to breathe the fire of fight back into Santana. She brought her knee up into his groin, watching his face contort and pushing him away.

"Listen here, you fucking weasels. Just because you can't get any action from someone your own age, does not give you permission to force your advances on us. Anyone else want to meet the same fate as this guy?" Santana screamed at the men, who were now retreating, seeing that their joke had gone too far, sobered. She took her chance and pushed Brittany back out of the alleyway into the abandoned street. They rushed home, Santana silent and fuming, Brittany panting to keep up with the pace that Santana had set. Santana let herself in the house.

"You're not safe anymore." She told Brittany. "I have to keep you safe. I thought that I could protect you,"

"You did protect me, Santana. Look at how you handled those guys. There must have been about ten of them and you made them so scared."

"They could have hurt you!"

"What about you?" Brittany asked, tenderly touching her fingers to Santana's arm, running them along to Santana's face, slightly reddened from the aggressive slap she had receieved.

"I don't care about me. All I care about is you."

"Well, I care about you. So you have to look after yourself too, okay?" Brittany gripped both of Santana's shoulders, looking into her eyes. Santana burst into a fresh set of tears, sinking to the kitchen floor. Brittany sat down about a foot away, her legs crossed. She scuffled over when Santana's sobs had dissolved into the occasional proud sniff.

"Hey. It was just some stupid guys who'd had too much to drink, stuff like that's happened to us before. It's the Cheerios uniforms, they're like a magnet for perverts."

"It's not that. It's…"

"Azimio? That's fine too. It was kind of cool. Like a blue shower." Brittany tried to convince Santana.

"It's just the start," Santana told her. "Karofsky was wrong. I have no juice at that school now, and no amount of Cheerleading championships or Glee club solos is going to change that."

"So?" Brittany asked. "We've still got each other."

And for the first time, Santana wondered if having each other was enough to get them through.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you guys for sticking around! Sorry it's taking so long to update (is a few days a long time? I don't know. Anyway, this chapter is quite long, and the next one will be even longer by my estimates), keep on reviewing, I love hearing what you have to say!**

_Next chapter: Doubts, musical numbers and Santana's manipulation of Brittany during the Bartie period comes back to bite her on the ass._


	20. Chapter 20

"Where were you last night? I called you three times!" Santana hissed at Brittany when the blonde wandered into Glee the next day, late again.

"Artie was tutoring me. In math." Brittany said simply, sliding into the empty seat between Santana and Blaine and reaching out to touch Blaine's hair. "It's like a Ken doll," she observed and Blaine shuffled away slightly. Santana missed this interaction because her mind was panicking, a hundred thoughts clouding her judgement. Mr Schuester walked in cheerfully.

"Hey guys! So, great job last week! Got a little assignment for you all today. This week's theme: ABBA!" He announced, writing it on the board.

"Mr Schue, the alphabet goes A B C, not A B B A," Brittany whispered theatrically, looking sympathetically at the bemused teacher.

Rachel was smiling happily.

"Mamma Mia is one of the greatest musicals of all time. Not the movie, _obviously,_ the broadway show. It was fantastic. I know _just_ what to sing." She glared at Finn as she said this, making it evident to the rest of the club that they had been fighting earlier.

"That's great Rachel, but first I think we should do a group number, show everyone else the magic of ABBA!" Mr Schuester encouraged the group to stand up and motioned to Brad to start playing _Voulez Vous_.

_People everywhere__  
><em>_A sense of expectation hanging in the air__  
><em>_Giving out a spark__  
><em>_Across the room your eyes are glowing in the dark__  
><em>_And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end__  
><em>_Masters of the scene__  
><em>_We've done it all before and now we're back to get some more__  
><em>_You know what I mean_

_Voulez-vous (ah-ha)_

_Take it now or leave it (ah-ha)__  
><em>_Now is all we get (ah-ha)__  
><em>_Nothing promised, no regrets__  
><em>_Voulez-vous (ah-ha)__  
><em>_Ain't no big decision (ah-ha)__  
><em>_You know what to do (ah-ha)__  
><em>_La question c'est voulez-vous__  
><em>_Voulez-vous...__  
><em>

The group were up on their feet and dancing by this point, joining in with the chorus. As they improvised a dance, Santana couldn't help but notice Brittany choosing Artie as her partner. She allowed Puck to dance with her, keeping a cool eye on Brittany all the while. The second the final note was sung, she stormed out of the classroom, Cheerios skirt sashaying in her rage. Brittany finally managed to catch up with her at practice, though she was constantly chiding the rest of the team on not being up to scratch.

"San, what happened earlier?"

"Britt, please. Just because you're getting the dances right doesn't mean you can talk to me. What would Sue think? She left me in charge!"

"She left _us_ in charge, San."

"Don't call me San in front of...people!"

"What is this about? Are you still coming over tonight? Fondue For Two? You promised," Brittany frowned.

"Yeah, fine. Come on, let's run it again." She leant over and restarted the track the cheerleaders were dancing to, ending the conversation.

* * *

><p>"Hey viewers. It's Brittany S. Peirce. And my best friend, girlfriend, soulmate, Santana Lopez. Isn't she lovely?" Brittany announced, pulling a floppy eared hat over her head and smiling at the camera that was trained on the pair as they sat on Brittany's bedroom floor.<p>

"So what should we talk about?" Brittany asked Santana, looking from her girlfriend to the camera and back again, set on edge by the frown that resided on her face.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me what happened last night at Artie's?"

"He tutored me… like I said earlier..." Brittany's eyes flicked back to the camera again nervously, suddenly regretting her decision to film the conversation.

"Is that all?" Santana growled. "Did you have sex with him?"

"Well, yeah. It's not a big deal,"

"It's a huge deal! How could you do this? Why aren't I enough for you?"

"I didn't cheat on you, San! You _know_ it's not cheating if the plumbing's different!" Brittany reassured Santana, reaching over to hug her.

"Wh… what?"

"The plumbing's different…" She repeated, tilting her head when Santana moved away from her and shut the camera off.

"It doesn't matter now! You told me nothing matters but you and me!" Brittany pleaded, desperate.

"Well maybe you should listen to me next time." Santana slammed out of Brittany's room and she turned the camera back on, confused.

"I don't know what just happened, but if you guys could like, comment, and explain, that'd be nice."

When Brittany checked the comments after finishing eating all the fondue, she was shocked, hurt and even more confused.

_"Is this some joke? How stupid can you be?"_

_"She's obviously upset because you had sex with Artie, you idiot"_

_"What is this plumbing thing? I am so using that as an excuse from now on."_

_"I ship Brittana"_

The last comment was the most confusing. Brittany flicked through the pages of comments, amazed at the popularity of her show, and slightly horrified by some of the suggestions.

_"I don't know what was going on, but you and that Santana chick should totally make a sex tape!"_

_"Hey, ladies, how about you test my plumbing later?"_

This comment was from an account dubbed "Badass-Guns". Brittany deleted the more vulgar comments and rocked back on her heels, still confused. Her phone rang. It was Artie.

"Artie?" She whispered, sad. She felt as though the camera was still on, and Santana was still watching.

"We didn't have sex!" Artie's voice was shrill.

"Yes we did, weren't you there?" Brittany said, as if it were obvious.

"Not last night!"

"Well no. But we have… had sex. That's what I told Santana."

"I know you did, but listen, I don't know what that whole plumbing thing was about, but you can't let her think that you've done to her what you did to me. Because it hurts, Brittany. It really hurts."

"Well, Santana's really mad at me."

"Yeah, I saw. Just, call her? Sort it out. I see the way she looks at you. It's the way I - the way I used to."

The line went dead. Brittany lay flat on the floor, phone in hand, dialling Santana's number until the early hours, getting no response.

* * *

><p>Santana would usually never want to do a duet with Rachel, but extreme circumstances had led to the two girls standing in front of the club, singing The Winner Takes It All. They each had things to say, and the song summarised those things. Santana had threatened to beat Rachel to death with her own loafers in order to get the solo, but her offer of a duet was unexpected and they were nervous to find out how it worked. They directed the song to their significant others, Santana taking the first verse.<p>

_I don't wanna talk__  
><em>_About the things we've gone through__  
><em>_Though it's hurting me__  
><em>_Now it's history__  
><em>_I've played all my cards__  
><em>_And that's what you've done too__  
><em>_Nothing more to say__  
><em>_No more ace to play_

_The winner takes it all_

_The loser's standing small__  
><em>_Beside the victory__  
><em>_That's a destiny_

Finn shifted in his seat, in obvious discomfort, as Rachel joined in. Santana made a mental note to find out what their fight was about this week, while Brittany just blinked big blue eyes. Rachel took the next verse, solo. Santana used this time to glare at Artie, swaying to the beat. He stopped instantly and gave her a strange look.

_I was in your arms__  
><em>_Thinking I belonged there__  
><em>_I figured it made sense__  
><em>_Building me a fence__  
><em>_Building me a home__  
><em>_Thinking I'd be strong there__  
><em>_But I was a fool__  
><em>_Playing by the rules__  
><em>

_The gods may throw a dice__  
><em>_Their minds as cold as ice__  
><em>

Santana spat the next part directly to Artie, holding him in place while she leaned into his face, eyes burning, hissing venom.

_And someone way down here__  
><em>_Loses someone dear__  
><em>_The winner takes it all__  
><em>_The loser has to fall__  
><em>_It's simple and it's plain__  
><em>_Why should I complain?__  
><em>

The two girls sung the final part together, their voices soaring as a duet.

_But tell me does she kiss__  
><em>_Like I used to kiss you?__  
><em>_Does it feel the same__  
><em>_When she calls your name?__  
><em>_Somewhere deep inside__  
><em>_You must know I miss you__  
><em>_But what can I say__  
><em>_Rules must be obeyed_

_The judges will decide_

_The likes of me abide__  
><em>_Spectators of the show__  
><em>_Always stay in love__  
><em>_The game is on again__  
><em>_A lover or a friend__  
><em>_A big thing or a small__  
><em>_The winner takes it all_

_I don't wanna talk_

_If it makes you feel sad__  
><em>_And I understand__  
><em>_You've come to shake my hand__  
><em>_I apologize__  
><em>_If it makes you feel bad__  
><em>_Seeing me so tense__  
><em>_No self-confidence__  
><em>_But you see__  
><em>_The winner takes it all__  
><em>_The winner takes it all..._

They panted out the last notes, and then hugged, laughing, before springing apart and acting as though it had never happened. The class erupted into applause, except for Finn, Brittany and Artie, who sat in various levels of contempt and humiliation.

"Wow you guys, that was fantastic!" Mr Schuester told them, going over and putting an arm round each of their shoulders. "Who's up next? Gotta say, that's set the bar pretty high! Any takers?"

"I will." Brittany spoke up, suddenly enraged. She walked past Santana, glaring at her. Santana raised an eyebrow as she went to sit back down, next to Rachel and far away from Finn.

Brittany whispered to Brad and he nodded enthusiastically, flicking through the sheet music in front of him and selecting the song she requested.

"This is for my girlfriend, Santana." She said confidently.

_Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find__  
><em>_I tried to reach for you, but you have closed your mind__  
><em>_Whatever happened to our love?__  
><em>_I wish I understood__  
><em>_It used to be so nice, it used to be so good__  
><em>

The night before, Brittany had been listening to the ABBA CDs her mom owned, and though some of the songs were catchy, or better to dance to, this song was right for the situation.

_So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me__  
><em>_S. O. S.__  
><em>_The love you gave me, nothing else can save me__  
><em>_S. O. S.__  
><em>_When you're gone__  
><em>_How can I even try to go on?__  
><em>_When you're gone__  
><em>_Though I try how can I carry on?_

_You seem so far away though you are standing near_

_You made me feel alive, but something died I fear__  
><em>_I really tried to make it out__  
><em>_I wish I understood__  
><em>_What happened to our love, it used to be so good_

_So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me_

_S. O. S.__  
><em>_The love you gave me, nothing else can save me__  
><em>_S. O. S.__  
><em>_When you're gone__  
><em>_How can I even try to go on?__  
><em>_When you're gone__  
><em>_Though I try how can I carry on?__  
><em>

The class applauded, though they were all dying to find out what was going on between the two girls to cause such tension in the room during their numbers. That signalled the end of rehearsal, and the club made to leave. Santana was packing her bag and soon it was just her and Artie left in the room. She looked at him coldly as she made for the door, but he wheeled in front of her.

"Get out of my way, Wheels. I'm not above beating a cripple. How dare you?"

"How dare I manipulate a sweet, innocent girl, a girl I love, the only person I've ever loved, to cheat on the person who makes her happy? I don't know, can you think of a reason?" Artie said, his jaw clenching. "Well, I didn't dare. She meant that we had had sex before you were together. And I'm sure that the plumbing line was a direct quote from you, about me."

Santana made a whimpering noise as the cogs turned in her head and she realised what Artie was saying.

"Oh _shit."_ She cussed before pushing Artie's chair back and running down the hallway towards Brittany's locker, desperation all over her face.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey everyone! Sorry I've been missing in action lately! I've started writing a new Klaine fic that I'm really excited about sharing with you guys :) I think I'll write a couple more chapters for this one and then wrap it up? Thank you for loving me XD<strong>


	21. Chapter 21

Brittany was searching her locker for something when Santana got there, panting, her breath coming raggedly. She didn't understand why the short run had tired her when she was on the cheerleading squad, and pegged it down to nerves. Being nervous was new.

"Britt, I made a mistake – "

"Where's my textbook?" Brittany interrupted, a stream of glitter flying out of a book that she knocked onto the floor, covering her knees.

"Let me look," Santana pleaded, seeing that the girl was trying desperately to get away from her and wanting to prolong the time they had together.

"No. Doesn't matter." Brittany slammed the locker shut and walked away, leaving Santana standing sadly in the corridor. She spun around, intending to take a different route and cut Brittany off at the parking lot, but ran into Kurt.

"Santana?" He looked worried. Santana felt the hot tears spurting down her face and wondered how long she'd been crying. "C'mon," He guided her into an empty classroom and shut the door.

"Why can't it be easy?" Santana exploded, sitting on a table and grunting in annoyance. "I had her! It was fine! I can't have blown it already. Maybe…" She wiped her face furiously and started rooting around in her bag for a compact mirror.

"What, Santana?" Kurt pushed, keeping a safe distance from the fiery Latina.

"Maybe it's not worth it." She vocalised the thoughts that had been niggling at her for days. Kurt blinked, surprised, but carried on the conversation without missing a beat.

"Maybe it isn't." Kurt repeated. "But you'll have to figure it out yourself, and quickly. Because she won't wait around for you to _plumb_ her forever." And on that note, Kurt hastily left the classroom, Doc Martens clicking all the way down the hall, pausing only to say, "but it was worth it for me. To be with Blaine, here of all places... it's the best thing that could have happened."

Santana sighed and peered out the window. She saw Brittany walking across the quad and realised she'd never catch up to her now. Probably for the best. This way, she could make her face less puffy and think of her next move. She found herself back in the choir room, sitting at the piano. She pressed a key, hesitant, then began to play, some of the notes a little off as she wasn't the greatest pianist. She sung, her voice wavering as she was still sniffing up the tears from earlier.

_Your subtleties__  
><em>_They strangle me__  
><em>_I can't explain myself at all.__  
><em>_And all the wants__  
><em>_And all the needs__  
><em>_All I don't want to need at all._

_The walls start breathing__  
><em>_My mind's unweaving__  
><em>_Maybe it's best you leave me alone.__  
><em>_A weight is lifted__  
><em>_On this evening__  
><em>_I give the final blow.__  
><em>

Unbeknownst to Santana, Brittany had returned to the choir room to look for her lost textbook (she had been pressing a flower between the pages, and wanted to see if it was complete). The blonde watched from behind the door, her heart breaking a little with each word, though listening to Santana's singing was normally the most soothing, natural thing in the world. She supposed that things had changed, and winced. Brittany was not a fan of change. She still owned the same Hello Kitty underwear that she'd bought aged 11.

_When darkness turns to light,__  
><em>_It ends tonight__  
><em>_It ends tonight._

_A falling star__  
><em>_Least I fall alone.__  
><em>_I can't explain what you can't explain.__  
><em>_You're finding things that you didn't know__  
><em>_I look at you with such disdain_

_The walls start breathing__  
><em>_My mind's unweaving__  
><em>_Maybe it's best you leave me alone.__  
><em>_A weight is lifted__  
><em>_On this evening__  
><em>_I give the final blow._

_When darkness turns to light__  
><em>_It ends tonight,__  
><em>_It ends tonight.__  
><em>_Just a little insight won't make this right__  
><em>_It's too late to fight__  
><em>_It ends tonight,__  
><em>_It ends tonight._

_Now I'm on my own side__  
><em>_It's better than being on your side__  
><em>_It's my fault when you're blind__  
><em>_It's better that I see it through your eyes_

_All these thoughts locked inside__  
><em>_Now you're the first to know__  
><em>

It was the perfect breakup song. The thing was, Santana didn't want to break up with Brittany. Did she?

She heard the handle turning behind her and turned around on the stool, her eyes narrowing in preparation to chide the eavesdropper with a vicious insult. Her face softened when she saw Brittany's hurt blue eyes staring back at her, a habit that was hard to break.

"Brittany." Using her full name was rare for Santana. Even in their serious talks, she called her Britt. It was one of their little things. Was.

"San." It looked like Brittany had taken no notice of the way she'd been addressed.

"I… I love you, you know that, right?" Santana stammered the words. She'd told her a thousand times before, but this felt like the last time she'd ever say them.

"I know." her best friend replied.

Santana looked at her, expectant. Waiting for the four words that kept her going, through slushies and show choir and high school. '_I love you too_.'That's all she wanted, she realised that now. The pause lengthened. Brittany blinked back at her.

"Aren't you going to say it back?" Santana pressured, her eyes narrowing once more. She could suddenly feel the tightness of her ponytail, the curls tickling her neck, the scratchiness of polyester uniform on tan skin, the discomfort of being her own skin when she wasn't being reassured that someone loved her.

"You should know it by now," Brittany tried, stepping closer, holding Santana's forearms and seeking eye contact desperately.

"Say it!" Santana's voice strangled out. "_Tell me_ that you love me." She begged, knowing that whether Brittany did or didn't tell her, that the moment was ruined now. The sincerity would be gone, the simplicity of their relationship lost. She wanted to stop Brittany, cover her mouth to stop her doing exactly what she wanted.

"I love you, San."

Santana closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I need some... some more time."

Brittany took off her My Little Pony watch and handed it to Santana, a curious look appearing on her face as she did so.

"Here." She offered a sweet smile, not knowing that Santana's world was crashing down around them.

"Time… off. From us." Santana handed the watch back. "I need… time." She went onto her tiptoes and kissed Brittany's forehead, which was wrinkling in confusion.

"I don't understand,"

"Please, try." Santana left with these words and Brittany collapsed onto the stool, confused and hurt by the way that things were repeating.


	22. Chapter 22

Santana wiped her eyes, staring herself down in the bathroom mirror on Monday morning. A full two days without contact from Brittany – either she had really listened to Santana's plea, or she had lost her phone again. Santana looked at herself, analysing her features one more time.  
>"Right. You are pretty, you are smart. You don't need anyone. Not… her. Not anyone." She reassured the sad looking reflection. It blinked back at her expectantly.<p>

"Oh, shut up." She sneered at herself. A knock came on the door. She waited a few seconds, hoping someone else would get it, but no-one did. Sighing and righting her ponytail, she headed for the door.

"Wheels. Fancy seeing you here. Come here often?" She glared down at Artie, her tone sharp as ever.

"Santana." He responded, offering a weak smile, though there was a flicker of fear in her eyes.

_Still head bitch in charge._ The voice in Santana's head reminded her, and she shook it out.

"Why are you here, cripple? Don't tell me you've started to care for me? How did you even get down here? Is it all one big All-Glee-Club in this together? Please don't tell me they're going to come around the corner and start singing some horribly inappropriate song…"

"Would you _stop_? The nasty-girl act went out the window when you became the most whipped-ass girlfriend I've ever seen." Artie snapped, his posture increasing as he folded his arms, staring down the shocked Latina.

"You can't talk to me like that! You're…"

"Brittany's friend." He interrupted. "Which is why I let you have her. Why I would never take advantage of her naivety. And why you shouldn't screw things up, because I love her, Santana! I love her, and so do you, and I want her to be happy. Make her happy," he begged, then, regaining composure, he fixed her with a steely gaze. "She won't wait forever."

* * *

><p>"Hey baby," Santana whispered, leaning against the locker behind Brittany. The blonde turned, hair flying out. She had left it down and curled, and it fell over the shoulders of her Cheerios uniform. Santana fought the urge to reach out and twine a lock around her fingers, to tug it gently and then ruffle it and hear Brittany whine that she was messing it up. <em>Not yet.<em>

"San," Brittany said softly, the tone of her voice affected by Santana's own. It seemed like a more intimate conversation, one only they could hear in the bustle of the hallways.

"I… I want to be with you again. Always, okay?" Santana told her. "Always." Brittany fell into her arms and she returned the hug gratefully, the scent of pineapple shampoo overwhelming her senses as her fingers raked through the curls happily.

"Come on," Brittany made a move to entwine their pinkies.

"Wait a second." Santana reached out and ruffled Brittany's hair. "Much better."

"Nyrrrrrrr…" Brittany groaned happily, tossing her hair a little to put it back in place. "Ready for Glee Club?" Brittany bounced on the spot, swinging their hands together incessantly.

"Let's do a duet this week." Santana said.

"Really?" Brittany checked, her eyes hardly daring to light up, as though it were a toy being dangled in front of her eyes that might be pulled away at any second. When Santana tilted her head and nodded, her entire face began to glow like a Christmas tree. "Yay! I love you, I love you, I love you!" She gabbled, pulling her in for another hug and planting kisses on her shoulders.

"So, which song?"

* * *

><p><em>Yesterday, you asked me something I thought you knew.<em>_  
><em>_So I told you with a smile 'It's all about you'__  
><em>_Then you whispered in my ear and you told me too,__  
><em>_Say 'If you make my life worthwhile, it's all about you'__  
><em>

Brittany sung proudly, swaying in front of the crowded choir room. The couples were all sitting together – Tina and Mike, Finn and Rachel (who appeared to have overcome their Winner-Takes-It-All argument), Kurt and Blaine resting their heads on each others shoulders. Santana came in then, pretending to be late. A few heads turned, but Kurt and Blaine just gave her encouraging looks, knowing what was coming.

_And I would answer all your wishes, if you asked me to.__  
><em>_But if you deny me one of your kisses, don't know what I'd do.__  
><em>_So hold me close and say three words, like you used to do.__  
><em>_Dancing on the kitchen tiles, it's all about you.__  
><em>_Yeah...__  
><em>

She wrapped her arms around Brittany from behind, feeling the taller girl lean into her, once again overpowering her with the scent of pineapple and comfort that only Brittany possessed. She started to sway with Brittany, lost in her company and forgetting the others in the room. Just Brittany and Santana, working as one, how it's always been. Quinn smiled proudly, leaning forward and whispering "Finally," to Puck, who punched her in the knee gently, smiling with a hint of pride in his eyes too.

_And I would answer all your wishes, if you asked me to.__  
><em>_But if you deny me one of your kisses, don't know what I'd do.__  
><em>_So hold me close and say three words, like you used to do.__  
><em>_Dancing on the kitchen tiles,__  
><em>_Yes you make my life worthwhile,__  
><em>_So I told you with a smile...__  
><em>_It's all about you._

They sung the final words looking into eachothers eyes, Santana nodding as if her life depended on it. "It is, Brittany, it always has been."

The entire choir room joined in with a final round of "_all about you, all about you baby_", and at the end they clapped and cheered.

"No more drama?" Brittany whispered to Santana as they hugged.

"No more drama." She replied. Brittany squealed and kissed her in front of everyone, and Santana kissed her back, allowing her to spin her around and off her feet.

* * *

><p><strong>So that's pretty much... the end - almost! I'm just going to write an epilogue, and shove all the songs in this into a zip file so you guys can download the soundtrack (if you so desire... yeah... I don't know.) Anyway! Thank you for sticking with me for 22 chapters, Brittana shippers are a lovely fandom :D I'm very glad Glee is back (I have never hated Mr Schuester so much in my life but the rest of the episode was quality) and I'm working on a new fanfic so that'll be up soon. No1 curr? Okay. Thank youuu and see you soon for the epilogue!<strong>


	23. Chapter 23

**Epilogue**

The New Directions took Nationals that year. How could they not? They took Nationals, with a mashup of You Can't Stop The Beat and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, followed by a completely polished version of Don't Stop Believin'. And when they won, Santana kissed Brittany. They were onstage. The show was being broadcast to thousands of homes. The thought of the YouTube comments on Finn and Rachel's kiss made her wince (she had added some of the more… inventive ones… herself) but she didn't care. Because if Brittany didn't, why should she? She lead her life the way Brittany lead hers - if a little more clued up. But with her guard down, at last.

They all went their own ways, for college. Rachel, Finn, Blaine and Kurt to New York. Blaine and Kurt sent a Christmas card to Santana every year, and Santana often saw Rachel on television, promoting a new Broadway show and smiling irritatingly (most of the time, she changed the channel). Rachel was still wearing her knee high socks, even at age 30.

Puck and Quinn finally got it together and Quinn was a successful travel agent. Puck still cleaned pools. Quinn was pregnant again, and this time she was keeping the baby. Santana often saw her in the store when she was in Lima, buying lowfat baby food and batting eyelashes at the cashier, still beautiful.

And what came of Brittany and Santana?

They had fights, they broke up, they got back together, exes and siblings crawled out of the woodwork time and time again.

But it was still Brittany bringing Santana Blaine and Kurt's Christmas card, and asking "where can we get a Christmas card with Kurt's face on…? Do they sell them at Target?"

It was still Brittany who danced across the bedroom and flopped down beside her each night, giving her a kiss on her exposed shoulderblade and whispering "I love you" to her sleeping form.

It was still Brittany who convinced her to adopt a baby, still Brittany who convinced her to audition for a TV show, and still Brittany who she dedicated her first award to, her first album to.

It was Brittany convincing her to go into politics and use her influence to do something about homophobia in Ohio, and it was Brittany running her campaign into the ground until she changed tack to a more professional method (Brittany didn't speak to her for days.) It was Brittany who she finally married, legally.

It was always Brittany.

* * *

><p><strong>FIN<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my god I can't believe I finally finished a story! And with a happy ending, too! This has not happened in such a long time! Thank you for reading it, and for giving me such lovely, encouraging reviews. I'm going to write more so keep an eye out if you like. Also, I have put up all the songs used in this fic for download on my Mediafire account, accessible from my profile, and feel free to go download them :) ! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for taking time to read this! :D<strong>


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